Forsaken Love
by fairmaidofkent
Summary: Narcissa Black was certain her life couldn't be more perfect. But what happens when a single letter tears apart everything she's been building for the past six years of her existence and forces her into a new, seemingly bleak and empty life? Now rated M
1. Chapter 1

Narcissa Black was laughing. It wasn't a dignified, condescending laugh that one used on inferiors, or young children's antics. It wasn't even the laugh of a woman amused by the behaviour of boys who thought they were men- but it really ought to have been. No, Narcissa Black was entirely consumed by a fit of giggles, courtesy of one very mischievous seventh year.

"Get off me, Mort!" she exclaimed as he continued to tickle her mercilessly.

"Oh, don't be like that Cissy." He grinned widely at her and lifted his head. "We both know you don't want me to, and besides," he ducked to kiss her neck and resume his playful harassment. "You missed me terribly this summer while I was in Monaco."

"I wouldn't say _terribly..._" But she broke of as another fit of laughter overtook her.

"Hey! Hey Rodtimer, Cissy, you'll never guess what- oh!" Rabastan Lestrange, another seventh year and Rodtimer Yaxley's (Narcissa's current tormentor) best mate, stopped in the doorway of their compartment on the Hogwarts Express. Rodtimer rolled over on his elbow, smiling lazily.

"What do you want?" He asked good-naturedly. One might be a bit surprised by the close friendship between the two: While Rodtimer was outgoing, tall, dark haired and blue-eyed and of excellent physique, Rabastan was short, rather plump and uncomfortable in most social situations. However, they'd been close from the first day of school, before even.

"I just wanted to tell you," he proceeded, slipping into the compartment upon the realization that he wasn't intruding on anything _too_ important, "That a couple of the third years having been dueling it out in the corridors, and it's really a spectacular show! That Gryffindor Potter has these sprouts growing out of his ears-"

"Oh, that probably means my cousin's in it too… I should probably go see… My Aunt Walburga hates it when he duels-"

"Don't bother, I passed Malfoy heading that way, and he _didn't_ look pleased- I'll bet those kids are going to regret their fun in a couple minutes!" Rabastan shook his head; no one wanted to get on the wrong side of Lucius Malfoy.

No one, except for Rodtimer Yaxley.

Lucius Malfoy was the undisputed Slytherin King- Prefect in years earlier but now Head Boy, captain of the highly successful Quidditch team, O's in all his O.W.L's, likely the same for his N.E.W.T's this year. Just about every girl wanted him, and nearly every boy would give their right hand to be him.

But no one was. He didn't have friends- he evidently didn't want any. He associated to a degree with the young, clever misfit Severus Snape (no one had the faintest idea why) but no one would call them 'friends'.

Girls vied for his attention almost constantly but he ignored them all- ignored everyone, in fact.

Though he'd never say it out loud, Narcissa knew Rodtimer was insanely jealous of him. No matter how long he studied, Lucius got higher marks; no matter how hard he practiced, Lucius was a better Quidditch player, and no matter how well behaved and respectful he was towards the professors, Lucius was _still_ prefect, and now Head Boy.

But there was one thing Rodtimer had the Lucius didn't. He had Narcissa Black.

Saying Narcissa was beautiful like saying the Great Sequoia was tall- an understatement so extreme as to be laughable. But she wasn't just stunning- she was witty and clever, fun and loyal. He loved her to a fault, and had since the day they met. And she was the one thing he had the Lucius Malfoy never would.

Once Rabastan had wondered off to see what other interesting distractions the train held for the long ride, Rodtimer paused for hardly a moment before fondly attacking Narcissa again. She shrieked and swatted his shoulder; he chuckled softly and caught her earlobe gently between his teeth.

"Tell me how much you love me," he commanded.

"You first."

"I think," He murmured, "You already know how much I love you. You just like to hear me say it."

"And are you, my dear, any different?"

"Touché," He laughed. "Well, perhaps you're right."

"And you can admit it. One of the many reasons why I _do_ love you Mort, even if you must make me say it again and again."

Pleased with the easily gotten confession, Rodtimer dipped his head to kiss her again.

"And I-" He paused at the sound of the door being opened again. "What d'you want, 'Bastan?" He mumbled without bothering to look his way, still quite engaged with Narcissa's lips. Narcissa did though, and sat up with a gasp.

"What?" Rodtimer repeated, annoyed.

"Excuse me," a quiet, deep male voice murmured. Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway, watching the couple with an unreadable expression. "I didn't realize this compartment was occupied." He took a silent step backwards, and swept off. Narcissa flicked her wand, causing the door to shut once more, and gave a little shudder. She wasn't_ scared _of Lucius, per se, but there was something about his unfeeling aloofness that unsettled her. She respected him immensely, but one respected the stealthy, unyielding power of a manticore as well, and she had no intention of getting near one of those.

Rodtimer seemed to pick up on her uneasiness instantly, and figured distraction was the way to go.

"My lovely flower, do you remember the day we met?"

"Erm…" Narcissa wracked her brain, and he was pleased to see his ploy had worked. "Was it…on a Tuesday?"

"No."

"February 30th?"

"Close."

"Were you a Christmas gift of mine one year?"

"Not exactly."

"Alright, I give up. I'm mean really, Mort, it _was _my first year; I _was _eleven."

"And you _weren't_ interested in giving me the time of day."

"Liar! I loved you the moment I set eyes on you, even if I can't remember it."

"You're quite wrong, my sweet."

"Well then, tell me about it."

* * *

"…But you see Rodtimer, she's a _first _year. You can't possibly even be considering speaking to a _first _year!"

"She's Bella Black's little sister; she's hardly just _any _first year. I just want to go over and introduce myself, that's all."

"Mate, second years aren't meant to converse with little children… it's just not done! We'll be mocked! _I'll_ be mocked because of your stupidity! And look, she's reading, she probably doesn't even want- no, Rodtimer, come back here! Now!"

But Rabastan Lestrange was ignored as usual; he couldn't do a thing but watch helplessly as his best friend committed social suicide. In full sight of the rest of the Slytherins, too!

"Hello. You're Narcissa Black, aren't you?"

"Mmm?" She didn't look up. "Oh, yes, yes I am."

"I'm Rodtimer Yaxley."

"It's lovely to meet you, Mortimer."

He should have left then, rebuffed and reject by this slip of a blonde, but Rodtimer, always in good humor for a Slytherin, let out a crack of laughter.

"You may call me Mort, if you wish."

"Alright. Mort. You may call me Narcissa." Her eyes didn't leave the page of her book the entire time.

He sought her out again the next morning, delighted to find her bookless at the breakfast table, and engaged her in conversation with an ease that surprised him. She was unexpectedly bright for someone so lovely. Weeks later, she was quite embarrassed to realize that his name was _not_ Mortimer, but the nickname Mort had stuck, and he would be known by her as such from then on out. Soon, even though she was a first year, she and Rodtimer (and Rabastan as well, who was a bit more hesitant in his acceptance but eventually came around) were inseparable.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mort… Mort, darling, can you help me translate this Rune? I can't find it anywhere in the book…"

"Narcissa, love, you know I got a 'P' in Ancient Runes… Bloody useless subject," he grumbled as an afterthought. Narcissa grinned.

"I know. I just love making you say it, since _I _have an _'O'_." She leaned across the table to kiss him. "So, what will you be up to today?"

"Quidditch. Malfoy's already called for the first practice- but I doubt we'll even get to fly today. Probably go over all the scheduling and strategies for the season- we've got the same exact team as last year and we won every game. But of course, nothing as insignificant as _that_ would convince Malfoy to give us a bit of slack. Dictator that one is, I tell you."

"Well," she brushed her lips against his cheek again. "Have fun."

* * *

"…And the Ravenclaws have lost half their team to graduates, and will have a disadvantage of training new members. Hufflepuff-"

"Honestly Malfoy, the Hufflepuffs are useless duffers, we don't need to worry about-"

"_Enough_, Yaxley. You're fortunate that _some_ people are more concerned about the team than you are. As I was saying, Hufflepuff has a captain who has been playing seeker since her second year- she'll be likely the have taken note of some of our more memorable tactics, so we need to organize several new ploys. Gryffindor, however, is our biggest concern. There's no denying that, while mainly young, the team is well put-together, and since the first game of the season is between them and Ravenclaw, I expect all of you to be present and aware at the match. That means-" He pointed to Walden McNair, one of the beaters. "I don't want you sneaking off into the Dark Forest on another one of your ridiculous Acromantula hunts."

"It was one game I missed Malfoy, and it was Hufflepuff versus Ra-"

He was ignored as Lucius turned his attention to Giles Mulciber, the second beater. "You, I don't want you do harass any more first years when you should be paying attention. Wilkes," He addressed Carlisle Wilkes, his keeper. "I don't know _what_ you were thinking, taking a dip in the Lake-"

"Won't happen again, Malfoy!"

"Rookwood, you, as the youngest _and_ the seeker, ought to be present even more than the rest of us. Travers, stay out of detention this year; I think we've established that McGonagall does _not_ appreciate dung bombs in her desk, and Yaxley," he turned his cold, grey eyes to Rodtimer at last. "_Do_ try to keep your attention on the game and not Miss Black."

"My personally affairs are none of your business, and besides, I've been to every game ever played-"

"And there's a fair amount I'd be willing to wager that you weren't paying attention to fifty percent of those matches." He pressed on before another interruption could occur. "We will be practicing twenty five hours a week, every day. I want to see you on the field from seven to nine each evening Monday to Friday, and from ten until two on Saturday and Sunday. This schedule will increase marginally the week prior games in which we are competing. I will see all of you tomorrow morning-"

"Malfoy, you can't possibly be serious!" Rodtimer exploded at last. "Twenty five hours a week? What about N.E.W.T's?"

"I'm sure, Yaxley," Lucius replied, his eyes glittering dangerously but otherwise betraying no sign of irritation. "That you can modify your flourishing social activities to make time. If not, I certainly hope you're not under the impression that you are anything other than replaceable."

Lucius gave the assembled group a final, sweeping glance. "You may leave now. And remember, seven o'clock sharp, in your Quidditch robes. A moment late, I shall begin tryouts for more punctual players. Bring your brooms; we may or may not use them. Good evening."

* * *

"Twenty five hours Narcissa, twenty five_ bloody hours a week_! I'm going to fail my N.E.W.T's because of the smug bastard, _and_ he's threatening to kick me off the team!"

"Well, maybe since it's his last year here, he wants to assure the Cup is Slytherin's?" she guessed tentatively. Rodtimer, who'd been pacing restlessly, spun to face her.

"Please tell me you aren't taking his side."

"Of course not!" Narcissa defended quickly.

"He must have spent the whole summer memorizing the textbooks so he won't even have to study- memorizing and practicing Quidditch!"

"Not quite, mate," Rabastan corrected. "He had an intense internship at the Ministry, from what Roddy says."

"Well," snarled Rodtimer, looking deflated, "Big brother knows all, I suppose. How is Rodolphus, by the way?"

"Still refusing to marry like a good and proper heir. He has this nasty habit of shagging all the pure-blooded girls Mum and Dad invite over for dinner, thus making them unmarriageable. Really pisses them off, but he claims that if the women aren't virtuous enough to stay out of his bed, they'll make dreadful wives."

Rodtimer grinned. "I always forget how much I like your brother."

Rabastan scowled, personally disliking his womanizing, sociable older sibling very much. "Well, I'd be careful if I were you- soon Narcissa's going to be the last pure-blood virgin in England, and then he'll set his sights on her as his wife!"

Undeterred, Rodtimer laughed. "I think not. Narcissa, you're going to marry me, aren't you?"

"Not while I'm sixteen and studying for Arithmancy, I'm not. Now hand me that book you're sitting on, won't you?"

He did, and sighed. "Anyway, about that law-abiding prat, I suppose his father may have just paid off all 'O's for his N.E.W.T's… Yeah, then he wouldn't even _have_ to study… That must be it."

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "You know-" But she was cut off by a sharp kick to her shin. "Ouch! Rabastan, that was my l- oh." She turned and spotted what he was regarding with wide-eyed fear. Lucius Malfoy stood several paces away, watching them with an unreadable expression- Narcissa _hated_ that look. It wasn't human, and it always gave her the impression of ice being poured down her back- she gave a little involuntary shudder. Without comment, he turned away and began replacing his books on the shelves.

Rodtimer shrugged carelessly, but both Narcissa and Rabastan knew it would be unwise to insult the captain while in a jeopardized position on his team. After he was gone, Rabastan leaned towards his friend and whispered,

"You're an idiot, Rodtimer! You wonder why you weren't chosen as captain? Because even though Malfoy's the best chaser, he'd never make it on to any Quidditch team of yours."

"So what? We'd do fine without him."

Rabastan shrugged. "Suit yourself, but don't come whining to us when you're failing you're classes _and_ you don't even have Quidditch."

"I won't fail. You're just jealous that I have an 'O' in Transfiguration."

"I have an 'E'!"

"But not an 'O'…" Mort taunted with a laugh, good humor restored, and ducked as Rabastan hurled a book at his head.

Later that evening, Narcissa, who occasionally suffered from mild insomnia, crept back down to the common room, intending to read in front of the fire. But once she'd arrived, there appeared to be a different problem entirely.

"Oh! I-I didn't realize that anyone else would be awake," Narcissa blurted in excuse. "Do you mind…?"

Lucius Malfoy turned his cold grey eyes to her for only a moment, before quietly reminding her, "You aren't trespassing anywhere." He had a point; she had just as much right to be there as he did. However, Narcissa didn't _want_ to be there with him- but how to leave with grace?

"It's awfully late, you know. Most people don't usually stay up. I couldn't sleep- sometimes I can't. What- what are you doing?" Yes, good, rambling- she sarcastically congratulated herself for _that _brilliant decision.

He gave her an odd look, almost as though he couldn't understand the question.

"Studying." He replied at last.

"That's nice. What are you studying for?" _Shut up Narcissa! Shut up!_

The confused look didn't flicker. "Arithmancy."

"Oh yes, Arithmancy can be very difficult. I only have an 'A' in that, and my father expects it at least to be an 'E' by the end of this semester-"

"Is there something you want?" he interrupted suddenly. It was the first comment he'd volunteered on his own free will- and it wasn't friendly.

"I-I'm sorry about what Mort said earlier," she blurted nervously. "He was just annoyed, he doesn't mean anything by it, and he _really _loves Quidditch. And he'd be devastated if you made him leave the team, I'm sure he'll be playing extra hard, and he's honestly the best chaser on the team anyway! And I'm sure you wouldn't want to lose such a valuable player…" Narcissa trailed off.

Lucius twirled his quill thoughtfully between his fingers and his gaze flickered momentarily towards her. "The best, you think?"

"Absolutely!" She replied instantly. "The very…" She stopped abruptly, gaping in horror when she realized what she had just said. Along with Travers, Lucius was also a chaser for the Slytherin Quidditch team.

"I-I mean," She spluttered, "You- the captain- obviously- I-"

"I never had any intention of removing Rodtimer Yaxley from my team. I am not so thin-skinned as to jeopardize our team's success due to personal preference. Are you satisfied with that?"

Narcissa wasn't entirely certain it was possible to be more embarrassed than she currently was. If Lucius was aware of this he gave no indication, in fact, his stony expression hadn't changed the entire time they'd been speaking, unless you counted the confusion he'd shown at her _idiotic_ idea of speaking to him.

"I-erm-yes. I'm going to bed now." She turned on her heel and dashed back up to her dormitory.


	3. Chapter 3

"Acute pneumonia? It has to be worse than pneumonia."

"Pneumonia is nothing to tweak your nose at, Mr. Yaxley, and it's contagious, so you best hope you've not gotten it as well! Mr. Malfoy should be back in several day's time; I sent him along potions and-"

"We have a Quidditch game tonight, Madam Pomfrey! No offense meant to pneumonia, but it would take a malignant brain tumor on top of Dragon Pox to keep Lucius Malfoy at home in bed!"

"There are thing more important than Quidditch, Mr. Yaxley, and a person's health is one of them. You can write to your friend if you'd like-"

"He's not my friend! I wouldn't care if he dropped dead- just not before our game against Gryffindor! We've been training so bloody hard for this!"

"It must have been serious for him not to return from the Christmas Holidays, and Lucius Malfoy is an exemplary student! If you're implying that he's skipping school on a whim…"

Rodtimer didn't reply. He stormed from the Hospital Wing towards the Slytherin common room, thinking darkly to himself. He'd be damned if Lucius Malfoy had ever been sick a day in his life and let it stop him doing what needed to be done. He distinctly recalled an instance two years prior when Malfoy had broken every bone in his right hand during a last minute Quidditch practice, and showed up fifteen minutes later for his Transfiguration O.W.L. with not only an unhealed hand, but having taken nothing for the pain- he claimed any potion would make it difficult to focus. Rodtimer didn't know what would do it, but something far more severe than a shortage of breath and coughing up a bit of blood was keeping Malfoy from the school.

_But there is a silver lining to missing our captain,_ Rodtimer told himself several hours later as the six-membered Slytherin Quidditch team huddled together before the game. It was finally a chance to prove that they didn't really need Malfoy- he himself would make an excellent captain, and Lucius would return to find himself quite unmissed. Rodtimer allowed himself several moments of fantasizing about Malfoy coming back to find that Slytherin had won so spectacularly that Rodtimer had made permanent captain- and his first action as new captain would be to find a new chaser. Or maybe Malfoy wouldn't return at all, and then Rodtimer would be captain, Head Boy and top of all his classes…

"Yaxley, you alive?" Carlisle Wilkes asked uncertainly, bringing Rodtimer back to reality. _The game._ He had to focus on the game first.

"Right." He began in his most authoritative tone. "Now, I know we're a chaser short, _and _a captain short, but I think we can manage. If all goes well this should be an easy match, and the conditions are perfect, minus the cold. Just remember the plan, and stick to it. Alright?" There were grumbles of disagreement, but Rodtimer was undeterred. "We _can win!_"

They lost, of course.

Not by terribly much, but too many times a chaser would pass the Quaffle in Malfoy's direction only to find empty air or a Gryffindor team member, or a beater would clear the way for Malfoy to make a spectacular goal, only to have a less-gifted teammate get in the way, or the keeper would prevent a goal, throw the ball wide, to where Malfoy was meant to be hovering- Rodtimer was disgusted by the whole match.

His fury wasn't entirely respected by the entire house and this made him even more disgruntled for a reason his couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Really, love, you can't expect the entire house to drop what they're doing to appease you," Narcissa purred in his ear later as he sat sulking in a darkened corner. "However, as your happiness is paramount to me personally, I will be glad to do whatever it takes to bring your charming smile out."

Rodtimer gave a grudging smirk, and raised one eyebrow suggestively.

"Anything, my dear?"

"Well," she corrected with a smile of her own. "Not _anything._ Not until we're married, anyway. Don't you think you can wait just a year or two?"

"Let's go get married now, Narcissa, and then I will be of excellent bearing for the rest of my life. Starting tonight."

"I'm still not even legal, Mort," she reminded him. "Sixteen, remember?"

Rodtimer grinned wickedly. "That's right," he murmured against her neck, tugging her onto his lap. "You're my _forbidden_ pleasure. Let's us break some rules Narcissa, hmm?"

"I don't think…" she whispered back, kissing his temple and raking slim fingers through his thick black hair, "That we ought to be…" Her voice trailed off again as he dipped his head and nudged away the fabric at her collar bone to allow his searching lips better access. "Doing this right now…"

"And especially not right here!" Their embrace was broken by whack to each of their heads with a potions book. "Honestly," Rabastan continued to grumble. "We're not all as excited for your wedding night as you are. And besides," He settled himself across from his friends. "I have news."

"News?" Rodtimer echoed, unimpressed. "Fascinating." He turned his focus back to the young woman in his lap, drawing her leg over his hip so that she was straddling him.

"Come _on_, you two! It's important news! There's been an initiation!" He was brandishing the Daily Prophet in their direction, but it was ignored. "Oh, really, that's not necessary… Rodtimer- don't _do_ that! That's- there's a reason bedroom doors lock! Narcissa, I'd feel much better if I could see your hands! And, Merlin; Rodtimer, no one else wants to see Narcissa's knickers-"

"I disagree."

"Shut up and go away Rosier! Stop encouraging them!"

"I can't see Narcissa's knickers from here. Have you got a better angle? Move over..."

"Go away, Evan!"

Narcissa rolled away when neither could take the strain of not laughing any longer, and they both were in hysterics for several moments, encouraged by Rabastan's outraged expression.

"Are you done eating each other's faces yet? This is important."

"Oh, I'm sure it is," Rodtimer chuckled, swiping a tear of mirth from the corner of his eye.

"As I was saying before you two started playing tonsil hockey, there's been an initiation," he announced dramatically.

This evoked no response besides blank stares. Narcissa took pity at last.

"What kind of initiation, Rabastan?"

"Well, I'm glad you asked, Narcissa. You see, today, a certain announcement was made by a reliable source that…" Again, he paused for effect. "The Dark lord has let it be known that he has any number of Dark creatures under his command- Giants, vampires, dragons, banshees, chimaeras, manticores, and Dementors, even."

He finally had their desired attentions. "But that's not even the all of it- it's the wizards and witches. Apparently he's initiating the ones he wants now- and using the Imperius curse on those who those who hold value but refuse."

"So I figured that means this war is really happening?"

"Without a doubt."

"And soon?"

"Very."

* * *

"You lost."

The iciness of Lucius Malfoy's voice was enough to chill each of his teammates to the bone.

"It was close, Malfoy," Rodtimer muttered. "We're still ahead; if we beat Hufflepuff by a hundred points next match-"

"I did not ask for an explanation, Yaxley, I was merely stating a fact. I'm disappointed in all of you, to say the very least."

"You should have been there then!"

"I did not choose when I contracted influenza-"

"Wait, I thought it was pneumonia!"

"It was pneumonia. That's what I said. But I had hoped that all of you were past needing constant supervision. I'm adding an extra hour each day to the practice schedule, and anyone who objects to that will please turn their robes in now so I can find and train new players before our next match. Expect to be on the field until ten tomorrow night." He gave them all an abrupt nod as a signal of dismissal. They filed out, holding their tongues until safely out of earshot before shouts of 'bloody insane!' could be issued. Yaxley didn't lead this group as usual, however; he lagged behind and once the others were safely inside the castle, ducked back into the changing room.

"You know, Malfoy, I don't-" he stopped. Lucius was reading something intently, an owl perched nearby. He looked up when Rodtimer entered, and said perhaps the most surprising thing he'd ever heard from his lips.

"I'm sorry, Yaxley."

Rodtimer couldn't tell if the words were sincere or not, but didn't have a chance to find out as Lucius brushed past him and strode quickly up to the castle.

Surely Lucius Malfoy hadn't just apologized? It simply wasn't done! Rodtimer was fairly certain those two words had never crossed the blonde's lips. Mort doubted that he was apologizing for his abrupt departure, nor his intense Quidditch schedule. So what could it have been?

* * *

Narcissa head the soft footsteps behind her, and lifted her head with a grin. Mort always thought he was brilliant at sneaking up on her, and granted, he _was_ being quieter than usual, but she couldn't be fooled when the footsteps stopped at her back. He didn't move or make a sound- probably waiting to scare her, she guessed with a suppressed giggle.

"I know you're there!" she exclaimed at last, after almost a minute of silence. Without turning around, she reached back to him- she happened to know that Rodtimer was very ticklish around his midsection. But the hard, muscled abdomen her fingers collided with was notably _not_ Rodtimer's- She spun with a gasp to see the stony eyes of Lucius Malfoy staring at her.

"Oh! I'm so, _so_ sorry! I didn't realize, I thought you were Mort… Please excuse me!" Narcissa could tell her cheeks had flushed to an unappealing crimson. "I- erm, can I help you with something?"

He didn't answer. His was a truly terrifying presence, in Narcissa's opinion, and the way his cold grey eyes were searching hers with a questioning intensity didn't help. She blinked nervously and bit her lip.

"Never mind," he murmured at last, and left in the near-silence with which he'd approached. Narcissa shuddered slightly.

"Narcissa?" She glanced up with a relieved grin to see Rodtimer entering the library. "What were you and Malfoy talking about?"

"We weren't." Narcissa hopped up and slid easily into his arms, rubbing her cheek against the familiar-smelling fabric of his shirt. "I think we should go for a walk by the Lake."

"Sounds like a brilliant idea, my dearest," he replied, before scooping her up dramatically.

"Mort!" she shrieked laughingly, drawing alarmed stares from the hushed students surrounding them. "Put me down!" she continued, quieter. Rodtimer grinned, and shook his head.

"Not until I'm good and ready," he promised, and began carrying her through the school, ignoring the baffled glances their procession received.

"I said _walk, _Mort. This doesn't classify as walking."

"For you, at least."

With a defeated but happy sigh, she wound her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. Rodtimer didn't put her down until they were well across the grounds, by the lake shore.

"You know my dear," His breath tickled her ear as he leant close to her, stretching out beside her. "We are going to have the most beautiful children."

Narcissa rested her head on his offered arm, and snuggled in close. "Oh really? What will they be like?"

"We're going to have three," he began without hesitation. "A boy first, who will have your eyes, my nose and hair, your fair skin and chin, and my facial structure." At this, Narcissa reached up to fondly stroke his perfectly chiseled cheekbones. "Eighteen months later, we're going to have a second son. He's going to be blonde, but as tan as I am. He'll have my eyes, and be quite the lady-killer. Did I mention our firstborn is going to be studious and politically correct? Oh yes. But number two is going to be lazy and fun and most popular in his class. Drive his big brother crazy."

"And the last one?"

"Will be our favorite. She's going to be born five years after her brother, and she's going to be her daddy's little girl. But she'll be the most beautiful, because she's going to look just like her mother."

Rodtimer rolled over onto his back, and Narcissa followed, resting her head on his chest. She was content for a while to listen to the steady rhythm of his heart, watching the sun set.

"I love you, Mort."

"Hey." He gently hooked a finger beneath her chin, pulling her lips momentarily to his. "I love you too. More than you can possibly know."

"Forever?"

"And ever."


	4. Chapter 4

"Why, Rodtimer Yaxley, I believe you're lying to me!"

"I'd never lie to you, my love, not if my life depended on it. I honestly have the whole thing set up. Over the spring holiday, you and I shall take a port key to St. John's, where I have booked us a small, beachfront cottage, where we shall be residing for the duration of our break from this place. It'll be an excellent opportunity to plan for our wedding."

"I don't- did you really?"

"Happy Valentine's Day, Narcissa."

"Oh!" She gave a cry of delight, flinging her arms around his neck. "You're brilliant beyond reason. What did I do to get so lucky as to have you?"

"Let's not question it, shall we?" He grinned at her over the brim of his goblet of orange juice. "Look, the post is here now… I reckon the brochure I sent for is with it."

Sure enough, as his tawny owl flew down squarely in the centre of Rodtimer's bowl of porridge, it clutched a brightly coloured pamphlet in its beak.

"Oi! Bloody bird, get out of my food!" He snatched the leaflet from his pet, and shooed it away. As it spread its wings and took off, the majority of the Slytherin table and its occupants were splattered with the lumpy oatmeal. "Anyway," Rodtimer continued, "you see here that the place has got-" But he paused as Narcissa's own owl fluttered to sit gracefully beside her, an envelope tied neatly to its leg.

"It's just from my mum, I'll open it later. So, continue?"

"Right, of course. Look, they've got all these incredible beaches… I liked this one in particular, Solomon's beach, known for nude sunbathing."

"Mort, you're horrible! And aren't all these places… Well, _Muggle?_"   
"The resort will be strictly for witches and wizards, and there are a few magic-only beaches, but yes, it's mostly got Muggles too."

"I really dislike Muggles."

"Well then," He grinned dangerously, and leaned over to place his lips at the hollow beneath her ear. "I'll just have to get rid of all the Muggles for you then, won't I?"

…

It was three days later that Narcissa received a second letter in the post.

"Bella? I haven't heard from her in ages! What could she possible be writing about? She _hates_ writing letters!" She tore this one open eagerly.

_My dear Cissy-baby,_

"Ugh, she only calls me that because she knows I hate it."

_Mother and Father have just written to tell me the news- and I figured it was much more important I reply to you first! Well, it's a stretch in tradition, the youngest marrying first, but I suppose we can overlook it. Are you nervous? But I suppose your eighteenth birthday _is_ still several years off yet! To think, I'll be twenty two! Perhaps I _shall_ be married by then, or an old maid- the very thought! Mother and Father would be outraged, even if they could see me laughing as I am now. You may well have snagged the best one in London, wealth and status wise, at least. Darling, all jokes aside, I sincerely hope you're not frightened- of him, or the prospect of marriage itself. I'm sure our parents know what they're doing. Reply soon! And send your owl, this blasted one is useless, this letter's likely days late… Alas._

_Your sister,_

_Bellatrix Black_

Narcissa read the letter twice, trying to derive even a word of sense from it.

"Erm, Mort, you didn't by any chance tell my parents that we were getting married when I turned eighteen? Or that I might be afraid of you?"

"Let me see that…" He leaned over curiously. "That doesn't- Narcissa, that letter from your parents the others day, what did it say?" Rodtimer asked suddenly. Narcissa blanched.

"I- I never read it. I forgot." She leapt up from the table, and hurried back towards the Slytherin dungeon, unnoticing of Lucius Malfoy's grey eyes following her knowingly.

She half-ran through the corridors, and upon reaching her dormitory began to tear through her possessions like a storm. _It must be here somewhere, it has to be…_

"Ah!" Narcissa cried exultantly, her hands falling upon the parchment. She tore it open, and began to read,

_Narcissa,_

_My dear, youngest daughter- I have excellent news! You may or may not be aware, but your father and I have been concerned for some time about the lack of marriage proposals your hand has been receiving. Why, by your age, half the eligible bachelors in London were vying for you sister Bellatrix's affections… Which is why we are allowing her to select her own husband. She has the world at her fingertips, and your father and I feel she can't go wrong._

_However, your sixteenth birthday has passed, and no offer was made. Until very recently, that is. You will be thrilled to learn that we were visited by Abraxas Malfoy about two months ago- we didn't tell you earlier because we didn't wish you to get your hopes up until it was final. And final it is! You will be marrying Lucius Malfoy shortly after your eighteenth birthday. Your father and I thought it would be appropriate to wait until you graduated from school, a year after you were legal. I hope you aren't _too_ alarmed dear, but you must realize that we couldn't possibly pass this opportunity up! The Malfoys, after all, are not ones to be snubbed! And had there been a variety of options, or any official suitor, you realize that we would have given you a choice, but since none other stepped forward, we thought this for the best. Owl me with any questions._

_All the love in the world,_

_Druella R. Black_

_Mother_

Narcissa wasn't aware of dropping ungracefully onto her bed, nor could she understand why there were fresh tearstains on the letter in her hand. All she could think was _No. No,_ this couldn't possibly be true. _No, _she was going to marry Mort, not Lucius Malfoy- the thought alone made her physically ill.

But the only time Mort had officially asked her to marry her had been in her first year. She had agreed, and from then on out they had both known they'd be wed sometime in the future.

There was no ring. No contract. Mort had never even met her parents, let alone asked them for her- he wasn't so old fashioned. And while Mort was a Yaxley and of undisputed pure lineage, the Malfoys were descendants of nobles and kings, from a time when monarchy ruled the wizarding world thousands of years ago. The Malfoy fortune was obscene in it mass, and it was old money- the type none could dispute or sneer at. Mort loved her, but what did that mean on paper?

No one else had asked for her- that was true enough. Because everyone else had known the she was Rodtimer's, totally and entirely. Had Lucius known his father's intentions? Had Lucius asked for her specifically? The idea was laughable- Lucius Malfoy had no interest in _her,_ but would he have been able to refuse the marriage?

Wiping the tears away she stood up, not knowing whether to go to Mort first- whose arms she longed to fall in and shoulder she needed to cry on- or Lucius, with whom she needed to discuss this unpleasant arrangement with. The dilemma was solved for her when she found Lucius waiting for her in the common room.

"I assume you got the letter?"

"You _knew?_"

"For several days now. I felt I wouldn't be the best person to tell you."

Well, he was probably right about that. She'd likely not believe him, and even if she had, she wouldn't be able to face him after the horror he'd surely have seen in her eyes.

"I- there must be a way to-to reverse it! Or stop it! Or…_something!_ I don't want to marry you; I'm going to marry Rodtimer!"

Lucius's face was expressionless, as usual. "If you believe you can find a way to do so."

"Is it so final then?"

"From what I've been told."

Narcissa turned quickly, pressing her shaking hands to her face. "I don't want to marry you," She whispered again.

"Narcissa?" The hidden entrance to the common room opened, and Rodtimer appeared. "Are you alright? You left in a bit of a hurry." He moved swiftly over to her, wrapping her in a protective embrace.

_The last one, _Narcissa realized, more tears springing to her eyes. "Mort…" She choked, burying her head in his shoulder. "I love you. _So much_. Forever. I promise. And I'm sorry." With that, she extracted herself from his arms and walked over to Lucius, chin lofted. "Alright." She could do this. She was a Black, Narcissa Black, and would stand strong. She would make her family proud no matter what, and even if she would never be ready, she could do this.

"Goodbye, Mort." Narcissa whispered.


	5. Chapter 5

"Erm, hello, Lucius. How- how are you? Is that arithmancy you're working on? May I… join you?" Narcissa regarded him nervously.

Lucius glanced up at her with a rather curious expression, before nodding once. She sank into a nearby chair, gripping the edge of the table until her knuckles were white.

"Studying for N.E.W.T's?" She asked, tone strained. Lucius nodded again. "I suppose it must be awfully difficult. Bella said it was her least favorite subject. I don't think I'm going to take it next year. Do you know my sister Bellatrix? She graduated several years ago." Narcissa was rambling and didn't care. She needed to talk to Lucius, needed to be here, because it had been two months and nine days since she'd said goodbye to Mort, and every day, every hour, every _second_ was a struggle, an internal battle not to run to him. Each time she passed him in the hallways, or saw him at meals, she was certain she would be unable to do it. And Lucius wasn't making it any easier- he rarely spoke to her, and though he'd never objected to her presence, she feared that he wanted nothing so much as for her to leave him alone. But if she did, she would surely turn only to Mort, though nothing would be changed. She would still have to marry Lucius, and endure this pain regardless.

Narcissa continued. "Bella's always the life of the party, even with her temper. I do miss her. Mother and Father can't seem to figure out why she hasn't married yet, with all the men who are after her and whatnot. But she doesn't want anything but her independence. I envy her bravery sometimes; _Bella _can't be made to do anything she doesn't want to do. I wish I-" She broke off, realizing that Lucius was watching her, staring with one of those penetrating looks. Involuntarily, Narcissa shuddered and dropped her gaze.

"There's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up," Narcissa attempted yet again. "I thought we might go."

"I have a Quidditch practice." Lucius replied dampeningly.

"All-all day?"

"Most of it."

"Must it be on Saturday?"

"I need to study on Sunday."

"Is it so very important to have the practice?" Well aware of the fact she was being pushy, Narcissa couldn't help it. She'd never missed a trip to Hogsmeade, and the idea of going alone was even worse than the thought of going without Mort.

"I need to train a new player."

"There's a new player on the team?"

"Yes. Someone decided to quit."

"Who?"

Lucius gave her a measured look. "Yaxley."

"Why?" Narcissa gasped. "He loves Quidditch! He can't have possibly _wanted_ to quit. After all, he's such a brilliant player, and flying does make him so happy…"

"He didn't tell me." His tone was cold. "And the resignation was rather sudden." With that, he turned back to the book before him.

_… And there's a ball at the Lestrange's at the start the summer holidays. Mother and Father insist my presence is mandatory, and I know how you love dressing up. Lucky you're marrying Lucius- I've never seen Mrs. Malfoy in the same gown twice. So I'll see you in a few weeks, Cissy!_

_Bellatrix_

Narcissa stared into her reflection critically. The school year was over, and there was a certain comfort of being home, but here better than ever she noticed the changes in her appearance of the past months.

She'd lost weight, and was concerned with the ease that her ribs could be seen through skin that had become so pale, it was practically translucent. There were shadows on her face that had never been there before, but what could she expect from crying herself to sleep every night? Her long legs were far too skinny, and she feared the curve of her hips was more angular. As she went to retrieve her gown for the ball that evening, she knew Bella would notice immediately. And Bellatrix was fiercely protective of those she loved, few as they may be. But that was hardly her main worry.

_Mort will be there._ She remembered the way they would dance through the common room in front of the whole house when there was no music playing- they'd laugh and spin until they were giddy with laughter, and finally fall onto a recliner, wrapped in the others arms.

However, this memory brought neither smile to her face nor tear to her eye- it was something she could still be proud of. Never had she let anyone, especially not Malfoy, see her cry. Only her closest family ever had, but not because of this. They hadn't seen her cry since she was a small child. Only Mort had seen her tears since she first set foot on the Hogwarts Express as an eleven year old girl, and now she was determined that no one would ever see them again.

"Narcissa!"

"Yes, Mother?" She called back.

"Mr. Malfoy is here to pick you up. Aren't you done yet?"

"In a moment!"

_Malfoy._ How could she have forgotten she'd be attending with her fiancé? She finished her preparations and silently descended the foyer where Lucius waited with her parents. Cygnus smile at his youngest daughter.

"There she is, lovely as always. Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, Father." She replied obediently. "Goodbye, mother." She kissed her mother's cheek before turning to Lucius at last. "Good evening," Narcissa sighed, offering her gloved hand. Lucius scarcely brushed his lips against it before straightening up and offering his arm.

"Shall we go then?"

"How have you been enjoying your summer holidays?"

"Fine." Narcissa replied impatiently, trying to hurry him up just a bit. They were almost to the Lestrange's home, and Narcissa didn't want to loiter out here when Mort and Bella and even Rabastan were so close. He seemed to take the hint and his pace increased. As soon as they passed the threshold and greeted their hostess, Narcissa slipped her hand from his arm.

"I'm going to go find my sister." She told him briefly before hurrying off. However, this proved easier said than done, as a sizeable crowd had already formed in the ballroom. It took a good five minutes of vigorous searching before a loud crash was heard.

Narcissa spun on the spot, and spotted Bellatrix ten meters off. Her sister, on the other hand, was oblivious to anyone but the current victim of her wrath. She appeared to have just hurled a plate at the man's head. The room went quiet.

"You _bastard!_ Have you any idea who I am?" Bellatrix shrieked. Much to Narcissa's amazement, he didn't back down in fear. And to her horror, he bellowed right back.

"_You, _madam? You are clearly mad or entirely uninformed if you don't know who you've just thrown a china dish at!"

"You should think more closely of where you, sir, are placing those filthy hands! I hate to think where they've been, and if they ever touch me again, I can guarantee you'll have something much worse than a dish thrown at you!"

The man sneered. "With that aim, I dread to think of the damage you'll cause to my family's home, dear lady."

"You _dare_ insult me? Had I intended you any real harm, monsieur, you'd be dead!"

"I tremble at the idea of what harm a woman of your stature," He paused here to let his gaze slide over her figure most inappropriately, "Could possibly inflict upon me." He ran his tongue over his lower lip slowly, smirking obscenely. "Though I'd certainly not object to your attempts."

Bellatrix drew her wand. "I hope you realize exactly what you're dealing with," She snarled.

"I suppose I don't. Here, let me take a closer look." He took a step forward, his eyes dipping again. "Ah, yes, I can see better now-"

There was a crack, and he was flung backwards. He gave a shout of surprise, and Bella laughed raucously. He paused.

"That laugh…" He murmured to himself, recognition dawning. "Bellatrix Black."

"Very good, though a bit late. Next time you consider harassing a proper lady, you may-"

"Roddy?" Mrs. Lestrange appeared suddenly. "What's going on here? Get up!" She gestured furiously at her eldest son. "And Miss Black, I do apologize for any offense you've taken to Rodolphus."

"What the hell? _She_ just hexed _me_!"

"And with just cause, I assume." She snapped back. "Are you quite alright, dear?"

Bellatrix smiled. "I'm perfectly fine, Mrs. Lestrange. Perhaps Rodolphus could make it up to me with a dance?"

"If you think so." Mrs. Lestrange replied doubtfully. She turned and signaled for the band to begin playing once more. Narcissa, who had edged closer, heard the brief exchange between her sister and Rodolphus before the waltz began.

"Mr. Lestrange, I think you will find I'm not as unreasonable as you assume. I simply prefer to be asked."

"If I were to ask you, darling, where'd the fun be? I'm not a man who will drop down and lick your feet."

"Really? That's a pity. My toes are _so very _ticklish"

"Yes, yes, it is a shame. And although I won't lick your feet, there are other places-"

Narcissa stepped back quickly, blushing slightly, only to collide with a solid chest.

"Careful," Lucius warned softly, before offering her one of the two flutes in his hands. "Champagne?"

"I, erm…" She had meant to accept, but at that moment, she spotted Rabastan, staring at her from across room quite pointedly. When he at last caught her eye, he nodded discreetly in the direction of a shadowed hall leading off deeper into the mansion, where, shrouded in the darkness, she could discern Mort waiting. Narcissa gasped. "I'll be back."

She navigated her way through the dancing couples as rapidly as possible without full out sprinting across the floor. When she at last reached the cloistered corridor, Rodtimer pulled her into his arms.

It was like breathing again for the first time after all these months, a crushing weight had being lifted from her shoulders. All she could do was whisper his name, over and over, while cling to him with all her might.

"Run away with me, Narcissa," He gasped, voice cracking. "No more… Narcissa, I can't _do_ this anymore. I need you. I love you. _I love you-_"

"No! No, Mort, I can't!"

"You can! Unless-" He drew back suddenly, eyes wide with terror. "You _want_ to marry Malfoy?"

"_Never!_" She cried, pulling him back. "Never. I can't- I don't want him. I want you!"

"It makes me physically sick, Narcissa, when I think of him touching you. If he hurts you… If he _ever hurts you,_ I swear I'll kill him." He paused at this thought. "Let me kill him, Narcissa. I could make it look like an accident, and then you'd be free of him forever."

"Mort, you can't! It… It would be too dangerous." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You could go to Azkaban. Or he could kill you instead…" She shuddered at the thought. "I shouldn't even be here."

"Don't say that!" He replied passionately, crushing her even more tightly to his chest. "You should always be with me. I love you."

"You know I love you too, but I don't have a choice in this! You should… you should get married too, move on with life-"

"How can you say that? There will never, _ever _be anyone else for me. I'll wait for you forever. If Malfoy dies by natural causes when you're ninety, I'll still be waiting, ready to marry you. I bought the ring some time ago..." He thrust his hand into his pocket, withdrawing a gold band. Narcissa knew her eyes were welling with tears.

"It's beautiful. Perfect." She blinded rapidly, admiring the diamonds and sapphires, brilliant even in the diminished lighting. "But I can't." She pushed his hand away. "I should go…"

"Dance with me." He said suddenly.

"We can't! Everyone will see." She worried, though the idea was unquestionably appealing.

"Malfoy doesn't own you. Not yet." Before she could protest further, he'd pulled her into the light, onto the dance floor. A new song was starting up, and he placed a hand on her waist.

"We never had a chance," He murmured as the familiar steps began. "We were supposed to have forever, Narcissa. We were supposed to… Spend the nights making love and the mornings feeding one another breakfast in bed. We were meant to have children who would exhaust us and make us crazy, but we'd love them more than life itself. I wanted to grow old with you…"

"Mort, please!" She whispered as the tempo increased. "You think I don't want that? But I can't. Rodtimer, I can't!"

He was silent, staring intently into her eyes. "I'll miss you Narcissa. More than you can possibly imagine."

"I can! I'll always miss you too."

"Will I be able to see you once you're married?"

"I don't know. I don't know if Lucius will let me, and I don't know if I can… I'll want to run off with you every time we meet."

"I love you." He repeated once more as the song reached its crescendo, and the music came to an end. It was over, but neither could step apart. Rodtimer lifted his hands, cradling her face in them. "I never realized when I kissed you that morning that it would be the last time. Or was it?"

Not waiting for her reply, he dipped his head, pressing his lips to hers, entirely uncaring of those who watched. It was the most familiar thing in the world- Narcissa had never felt anything so natural as when they kissed. She had always loved the way they fit together just right, the electricity that had never ceased to excite her no matter how often she felt it. She gladly parted her lips to allow him to slide his tongue within, and responded with a practice ease.

She didn't want it to end. She wanted to stand there in his arms forever, but all too soon, he was pulling back. Narcissa was certain nothing had ever hurt her as much as seeing the tears in his eyes.

"I love you, Narcissa. _Forever._" With that, he receded into the crowd, leaving Narcissa exposed and alone.

It didn't occur for Narcissa to wonder whether or not Lucius had seen what had happened until she saw him on the outskirts of the dance floor, watching her. His expression remained blank as she approached him, showing neither anger nor jealousy. Not hint of hurt or sadness showed in his face, and no trace of tension was visible in the way he held himself. The same coldness that always emanated from him held true, his grey eyes without feeling.

"Cissy!"

Narcissa head lifted to see her sister rushing towards her, quite out of breath and disheveled.

"There you are Cissy; I've been looking for you all evening!"  
"You mean between throwing dishes about?" Narcissa was amazed at her own ability to keep her voice even. Bellatrix laughed.

"Saw that, did you? Well, so I lied. Not the first time…" She drifted off as she stepped back to examine the blonde with a critical eye. "You look unwell."

"I'm fine, Bella." She lied quickly.

"No, you're all skinny and pale. What wrong?"

"_Nothing._"

"Why won't you tell- Lucius! What are you doing skulking in the corner over there?" She'd spotted Narcissa's fiancé. He approached with caution.

"Good evening, Bellatrix. I understand I won't risk my life by speaking to you? Rodolphus nearly lost an ear."

"Oh, honestly, Malfoy, I knew what I was doing. And if he had lost an ear, it would have served him right for groping me."

Lucius didn't smile, exactly, but something in his eyes suggested that he was amused.

"I'm certain you weren't encouraging him either."

"I wasn't encouraging him to do _that_!"

"Of course not."

Narcissa watched the easy conversation with shock. Why was it that she could scarcely coax any but monosyllabic responses from him, and Bellatrix could hold a real conversation?

"Think what you may, but Cissy and I have things to discuss." Bellatrix wound her arm with her sister's, and turned towards the open patio. "Congratulations on the wedding, by the way."

* * *

[Author's Note: My first attempt a Bellatrix/Rodolphus- I hope it wasn't awful? And for the reviewer who asked about this story and Don't Cry, they have no relation whatsoever. Thanks for all he reviews! 


	6. Chapter 6

"Narcissa, dearest, you look beautiful. Your father and I are so proud of you. So proud-"

"Mother, please,_ please, _don't make me do this." Narcissa whispered helplessly, staring with unseeing eyes into the gilt-framed mirror before her. Immediately, Druella's gaze hardened.

"_Enough is enough, daughter!_" She hissed vehemently, unwilling to raise he voice in the present company. "It was an unfortunate mix up about the Yaxley boy, but see the benefits it has? Of course you were fond of the other boy-"

"I love him!" Narcissa gasped.

"But darling, love is nothing. It doesn't exist! Do you know what exists? Money. Influence and power. Respectability. I was certain we'd lose them a thousand times over- kissing that other boy at the same reception where your engagement was officially announced? That was the worst, but you've made so many errors, I'm surprised Lucius is even willing to take you as the next Mrs. Malfoy!"

"I wish he weren't! He's heartless, mother. He never smiles- I've never seen him smile! And I don't think he knows the meaning of the word 'laughter'. That horrible sneer- why, did you see the way he was looking around our home? Like he'd walked into some little shanty! Just because we don't have all this-" She gestured to the wealth and luxury of the room surrounding them, "-doesn't make us peasants!"

"We've already had this discussion. If we were not to be dissuaded from this union a year ago, do you think you can convince us to go to Abraxas Malfoy and call it off on your wedding day?"

Before she had a chance to respond, Bellatrix bounded into view. "Cissy!" She embraced her sister affectionately. "Don't you look like a princess! All in white- you ought to be proud of her, mother, for being able to wear white today."

"And I'd be even prouder of you to change out of that atrocity you have on- scarlet Bella? Really? All the other bride's maids are wearing a lovely pastel pink..."

"Well, I'm _hardly_ a bride's maid. I'm the maid of honour. Or the… whatever-you-want-to-call-it of honour…"

"Bellatrix Black!"

"Not the time for name calling, mum. Our little princess needs to finish getting ready." She tweaked Narcissa's magically curled hair and steered her off. "Alright, what is it?" She demanded in an entirely different tone. "You look as though you just swallowed bobotuber pus."

"Bella, I _can't marry him._"

"Who, Malfoy? Of course you can. All you have to do is walk down the aisle and agree to all the Bonds."

"Yes, but _after _that."

"Oh, you mean tonight? That's not difficult either, just lie on your back and-"

"_No,_ Bellatrix! Not that either, although-" She attempted not to shudder with horror at the idea of the approaching evening. "Living with him. Being his wife."

Bellatrix sighed. "Cissy, Lucius really isn't all that bad. He's not…_ warm and fuzzy,_ but he'll take care of you. He'll give you anything you ask for. Imagine, you can buy any dress of jewel you want without mother saying it costs too much! And just look around you- have you gotten a tour of the whole Manor yet? It's incredible! Lucius isn't nice, but he isn't unnecessarily cruel, either. Not to you, at least." She added as an after thought. Narcissa scowled.

"What d'you mean by that?"

"Nothing. And besides, Lucius isn't so awful to look at either, hmm?" She nudged her younger sister playfully.

"Just let Rodolphus hear you say that."

Bellatrix waved an untroubled hand. "I'm only keeping Rodolphus for play. Him and half a dozen others I've managed to convince are my first. Which reminds me, I've got to go meet Roddy for a quick pre-ceremony shag." She misread Narcissa's expression of shock and horror. "But don't worry! I'll be perfectly presentable by the time I've got to walk down the aisle!" With a grin she flounced from the room.

"Are you all ready then, dear?"

Narcissa looked up quickly at the sound of the soft, drawling voice by her ear.

"Y-yes, I believe so, Mrs. Malfoy."

The older woman smiled gently. "You look lovely."

Narcissa nodded stiffly. Mrs. Malfoy never spoke in a tone louder than a whisper, but she was undoubtedly in control- of both herself, and her surroundings. From what she had observed of the older woman, every elf or servant went to Mrs. Malfoy for instructions or the solution to a problem. However, despite her evident power in the household, Narcissa also noticed the way every action deferred to her husband- Abraxas Malfoy clearly thought his staff would be floundering and undirected without his guide. She was a true lady- a holdover from a time where women were entirely subservient to their spouses and fathers, but invaluable, nonetheless. But Mr. Malfoy was a clever man, and must on some level have been conscious of the important role his wife played- why else would he keep her dressed in the latest fashion, adorned with the most stylish jewels, and reserve a private, affectionate smile he granted to his wife alone?

Narcissa had carefully watched the elder Malfoys over the past two years; the lady of the home to learn cues of what her role was to be in the future, and Abraxas to scavenge clues about the personality of his son. So far, she'd discovered nothing.

"Mrs. Malfoy, might I ask you a rather personal question?"

Immediately, the expression upon her face became guarded- Mrs. Malfoy shared _nothing _personal, least of all with a soon to be daughter-in-law.

"It's about Lucius. He- he doesn't talk much."

"No, he never has." She agreed.

"He… Does he like me? He just seems so… cold."

Mrs. Malfoy seemed slightly relieved by the simplicity of the query. "If you're a good wife and mother, there's not reason for him not to. And while a marriage of compatibility is preferable-" She unconsciously touched her own wedding band here "-it's not necessary. This union was arranged as an alliance between two of the oldest wizarding families in our world. Surely your own parents have told you this? But don't concern yourself too terribly for now. My son has never been particularly difficu-"

"Mum, the elves have mixed up the menu again. They need you to sort it out." Terentia Malfoy appeared quite suddenly with her abrupt message. Mrs. Malfoy nodded and rose.

"I'll go see to it."  
Once she was gone, Terentia turned back to Narcissa, who tried to smile amiably at her almost-husband's older sister. However, the other woman didn't waste time with such pleasantries.

"I know about you, Narcissa Black." She hissed. Narcissa's eyes widened and she stared, taken aback.

"I beg your pardon?"

"There was another man. Before Lucius you wanted to marry… Mortimer, was it?"

Narcissa's stomach slid down several notches. "M-Mortimer? I don't know anyone named Mortimer."

"I don't care his name. He's why the only person in your bridal party that you chose is you sister- I know you two were so involved, you hardly had anytime for friends, did you? Look, I don't care what excuses you have, but you will _not, _under any circumstances, see this man again- and I _will _find out. You're not a Malfoy, and until you learn the ways, you will never _be _one. My mother will be the lady of the house until the day she dies, and you'll have no place here until then. If you make a mistake… consider yourself forewarned: this isn't a life ease and perfection. You-"

"Terentia, that is quite enough."

"Mother! You-"

"There was no menu error. We need to have a discussion."

Mrs. Malfoy led her daughter to what she thought was out of earshot, but Narcissa still caught pieces.

"…were you thinking?"

"…didn't want her to embarrass us!"

"…scare the girl…"

"…should know!"

Narcissa edged a bit closer to hear the rest.

"She absolutely should not, Terentia. She is to be Lucius' wife- an ornament, and nothing more. Treat her as though she is as fragile as one- and tell you sisters the same thing. I'm disappointed in you."

…

"You ready, Cissy?" Bellatrix grinned, but Narcissa could only stare bleakly ahead.

"Bella, I _can't do it._"

"Of course you can, silly, we've discussed it already. Listen, the music is starting up!" She watched as the flower girls went ahead (two distant cousins of Lucius) and the lesser members of the bridal party along with their escorts (also all Malfoys) before Bella straightened her hair a final time, and strode out to the aisle, head lifted proudly as if it were her own wedding she met Rodolphus, the best man, and placed her hand demurely upon his arm as they walked up together. Narcissa's stomach gave a horrible wrench as the pair reached the altar at last. There was a heartbeat of silence, and then the music changed. It was time.

The stretch of carpet before her seemed to roll on to an eternity. She wasn't conscious of putting one foot before the other, but yet she moved forward, one step at a time. The great cathedral was full to its capacity- every pureblood witch or wizard who was anyone at all had been invited to the undisputed wedding of the century, and each person not deathly ill who had received an invitation was in attendance. And currently, every set of eyes in the room were focused on her. All but one.

Narcissa followed her soon-to-be husband's gaze to a pew beside shrouded annex off to the far side of that church. And seated there was a woman, fair-skinned and curly-haired. There were tears streaming down her cheeks, and the look she returned to Lucius was undoubtedly accusing. In the small niche behind her, a cloaked figure stirred, but Narcissa hardly noticed the tall, white faced man; she was completely numb. Lucius had a lover- one of enough social standing to attend his wedding- and yet she, Narcissa, was the one being forced to marry him? She looked back up at Lucius, but the other woman had failed to hold his attention- Narcissa swallowed hard as his grey eyes locked with her own. Neither approval nor disappointment was there, no joy or sorrow.

_He may as well be dead,_ she thought with sudden vehemence. He had no heart or care in the world other than wealth and power, it seemed. He didn't care that he was taking her from Mort, didn't care that she would never be happy- he had no cares other than for himself. In that moment, Narcissa hated him. Mrs. Malfoy's harsh words came back to her- an ornament, was she to be? A pretty little doll? Good for no more than planning social events, bearing children, and warming her husband's bed on the occasions he tired of his mistress? Tears pricked at the back of her eyes but she blinked them back; she would die before crying in front of all these people.

At last, Narcissa reached the altar, and stood before Lucius. He held his hands out for hers and she grudgingly placed them upon his. Rodtimer's hands had been slightly calloused along his palms, but Lucius's were rough from finger tip to heel, as a person who had been put through demanding physical labour might have. This was odd for an heir of the Malfoys, but she hardly pondered it at the time.

"We are gathered here today as witnesses to the Bonding of this, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, to Narcissa Cassiopeia Black…"

Narcissa couldn't focus on the man's words, as her full attention was absorbed by forcing herself to breathe. _Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inh-_

"_What?!"_

Narcissa's head sprang up, heart pounding hopefully. That sounded like Bellatrix… Her eyes quickly sought out her older sister. Bella stood facing Rodolphus, stance defensive, hands fisted and jaw clenched.

"What did you just say?"

The crowd was muttering uneasily, but Narcissa grinned. She surely had the most wonderful sister ever known- to cause a distraction to delay the wedding! It was positively the sweetest thing Bella had ever done for her.

"I…erm…" Rodolphus cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I don't think now's the time, Bellatrix…"

"You should have thought of that first! Did you really just ask me you to marry you, Lestrange?"

The shock muttering doubled in intensity, and Rodolphus looked positively ill.

"I…"

"Well?"

"Yes." He seemed to have made up his mind. "Yes, I did." He squared his shoulders and Narcissa thought it quite brave, though could hardly suppress a giggle. Bellatrix had turned down so many men, but never before in front of an overflowing congregation.

Bellatrix took her time responding. After a long pause, she shrugged. "Alright then."

There were gasps, and Narcissa used the distraction as a cover to slip her hands from Lucius's. She knew her escape had arrived.

"Bellatrix, how _dare_ you!" The words were outraged, but she shot her sister a covert, grateful smile. "Always need to be the centre of attention, even at _my_ wedding!" Lifted her skirts in a perfect act of indignance, she turned and dashed back down the aisle, towards freedom. Perhaps her parents would be so ashamed they'd lock her up for ever, perhaps the Malfoys wouldn't want her once they saw how flighty and emotional she was. However, she barely made it down the steps of the altar when she felt a hand on her arm.

"Don't," Lucius's voice was very soft in her ear. "Don't do that to yourself."

His hand wasn't a barrier; she could easily break free of it. It was his words that stilled her. Would she truly be able to shame her family name in such a way? After Sirius and Andromeda, if she fled, the Black name would be brought to irreparable disgrace. She would likely be disowned as well. But if it meant she had a chance with Rodtimer…

But she couldn't. She was a Black before all else, more Black than Narcissa. Swallowing hard, she gave a jerky nod and slowly forced herself to turn. Upon catching her eye, Bella offered an apologetic shrug.

_It's not you fault, sister. I know that you tried._

She ascended the steps, and quietly surrendered all hope of happiness.

* * *

I can't believe it's been so long since I updated- but I _did _write an entire story since then! It's about Helena Ravenclaw and called Understanding, if you'd like to read it. Thanks for all your reviews on this! 


	7. Chapter 7

Narcissa ignored the whispers of her three new sisters-in-law. She'd intentionally placed herself as far as physically possible from them, and Bellatrix, who sat at Narcissa's back, combing out her golden hair, didn't seem to mind.

"_Do_ they ever shut up? Like chattering little hens!"

"I don't believe they do. And they're talking about me- saying the most wretched things, I'm certain!"

"Would you like me to quiet them for you? Not too difficult a spell, and their tongues would never again depart from the roofs of their gossiping mouths."

"It's sweet of you to offer Bella, but I think it best that I try to befriend them. After all, they're my sisters now."

Bellatrix scoffed. "_They_ are most certainly not your sisters! I'm offended you would even put me in the same class as those peacocks!"

"Not my true sisters, of course," Narcissa soothed quickly, "But that's what I must call them now. Oh, and I meant to thank you for trying."

"Trying what?"

"You and Rodolphus, pulling that stunt to postpone the wedding. It almost worked, but after Sirius and Andromeda, I just couldn't go through with it."

"Stunt?" Bella echoed curiously. "Cissy, I'm sorry I interrupted your ceremony. But it wasn't a stunt- I'm going to marry Roddy."

_"What?!"_

"What did you think, silly?"

"That you-you and Rodolphus had planned to get the wedding postponed by making a scene! You're really getting married?"

"Yes, I suppose so. We were standing up there, and he just leaned over and said, 'This really should be us'. I think you know the rest, of course, but I was terribly sorry for interrupting your wedding. Do you really think I'm always trying to be the center of attention?"

"Well, yes, but that isn't why I said it! I though I was just playing along. Oh, congratulations, Bella." She turned to briefly embrace her sister. "I'm so happy for you." She sighed. "And jealous."

"What for? You're already married."

"But you _love _Rodolphus."

Bellatrix burst into laughter. "No I don't. That's silly, Cissy."

"Then why did you agree to marry him? _You_ had a choice!"

"I'm never going to fall in love, Cis. I like Roddy, we get along well enough, and the sex is _amazing_; it'll be a good enough marriage. But love just isn't for me."

Narcissa didn't notice Bellatrix's hand resting on her left forearm as she spoke.

"Bella, that's not true, _everyone-_"

"Narcissa," Adina, Lucius oldest sister, approached quietly. She was twenty five and to be married in less than four months- Narcissa didn't mind one fewer Malfoy in the household, though Adina _was _the most civil. "It's time, Narcissa. Are you ready?"

"I-" Bellatrix give her a covert prod, and Narcissa stood. "I suppose."

"Good. This way." Her sister gave her hand a final, comforting squeeze, before Narcissa was led out of the room, and through several dimly lit corridors.

"This will be your room from now on. My brother should be here shortly."

"So should I just-" But she was already gone. Narcissa pushed the door open uncertainly, and peeked inside the luxurious room. The walls were a soft beige, and a tasteful yet elegant chandelier hung from the high ceiling. She slipped further in, burying her feet in the plush rug as she ran her fingers along the elaborate embellishment of the tall armoire, the shining surface of the dressing table, the thick, velvet duvet on the bed-

"Well?"

Narcissa spun with a gasp- she hadn't heard Lucius approach.

"Well what?"

"Your room. Do you like it?"

"It-it's lovely." It didn't answer his question, but Lucius accepted the reply with a nod. While Narcissa had been redressed for the evening, Lucius was still in his formal attire, except for the outer robes. His loosened his cravat rather uncomfortably- odd, Narcissa thought, from the man who always seemed to have all the answers. He made no mention of the fiasco at the ceremony, but came instead to sit quietly by her bedside.

Narcissa shifted uncomfortably. What was she meant to do now? He was just _sitting_ there, expression giving no hint to his thoughts.

"It's, erm… Been a long day. I'm rather tired." She hinted hopefully, praying that he would get up and leave. He looked up, and gave a brief nod.

"Of course." But instead of leaving, he drew his wand a pointed it at the lights, which dimmed. Narcissa's nerves began to overwhelm her as she watched his silhouette shrug off his jacket, pull of his shirt, unfasten his belt, and lay them neatly on a chair. However, he paused sudddenly while removing his trousers. "Are you alright, Narcissa?"

She realized too late that she'd given a whimper af fear. "I'm fine." She managed. With a doubtful nod, he finished undressing, and approached her cautiously. She recoiled slightly, but recovered quickly.

"Will you turn the lights off?" All the way, preferably. She couldn't bear the idea of actually _seeing_ him during the imminent events.

Lucius flicked his wand again, and the room went black.

* * *

"It's not bloody fair!" Rodtimer roared. Rabastan flinched as yet another priceless vase smashed against the wall. "It's _wrong!_ She doesn't want to be with him- Malfoy's a monster! He'll hurt her! He'll completely drain any bit of happiness from her life- this kind of thing should be illegal!"

"Rodtimer, calm down. Malfoy won't hurt her. He might be an agressive tyrant, but tyrants don't kill those who don't oppose them."

"But they oppress them! It'll be worse than death- he'll destroy my Cissa!" He bellowed, face contorted with rage.

"Rodtimer, breathe! She'll survive! She'll be fine!"

Rodtimer spun on the spot, fists and jaw clenched, eyes flashing dangerously. Rabastan stumbled back, ready for another outpouring of wrath- but it didn't come. Like a gust of wind, all the fury drained from him, leaving him with...nothing. He sat down hard on the floor, looking rather dazed.

"But what about _me,_ Rebastan?" He whispered, voice cracking. "What will happen to me?"

As he drew his knees up and began to sob in earnest, Rebastan had the sense to back silently from the room.


	8. Chapter 8

Narcissa didn't bother counting the hours that she had laid there, face buried in the pillow to muffle the sound of her tears. Despite the fact that every bone in her body ached with exhaustion, she couldn't find peace in the oblivion of sleep. Every time she shut her eyes, she was haunted by the humiliating and painful events the had ensued earlier that evening. It had begun all wrong- as soon as he'd gotten into bed beside her, she'd blurted "Please don't touch me!". This had led to Lucius quite calmly (and rather condescendingly, in Narcissa's opinion) asking if she understood what needed to happen in order to consummate the marriage. She explained that yes, she did, and that wasn't what she had meant.

The idea of being touched by any but Mort was horrifying, but Narcissa knew she didn't have a choice. She told Lucius instead that she'd rather not be kissed or in any other way..._ caressed_. As always, he seemed slightly baffled by her request but made no objection.

Once it had ended, Narcissa had moved away as quickly and as far away as possible without falling from the bed, and soon found her face wet and salty. She waited until she couldn't stand another second of listening to him breathe, then tumbled from beneath the blankets and stumbled through the unfamiliar room until she located the bathroom. She stayed in the shower for an hour, scrubbing at her skin until it was raw, yet still managed to feel filthy. As she allowed the steamy water to pour over her back, she recalled a time, not too long before her engagement, when Mort has throughly surprised her...

It had been cold outside. She couldn't recall the exact date, but knew they'd been outside in the gusty winter wind together, and she'd come back to the castle to take a warm shower. However, she'd been in only moments when she felt two hands fall upon her hips, and Mort's low, soft voice in her ear. "_Don't move, Cissa."_ He'd whispered when she'd made to turn to face him. Keeping them flush, he'd begun to bathe her, first hair, then body. Several times, he'd had to stop to keep her still. "_If I see you, Narcissa, I'm going to lose control."_ Pressing back against him, she could tell it was difficult enough already, and supressed a tiny, self-satisfied giggle. He'd always sworn that he wouldn't have her until their wedding night, but explained that didn't keep him from staying up at night counting the threads of his canopy or thinking about History of Magic class- anything that kept him from needing to spend the entire evening in an icy bath. It had always seemed funny to her- _she_ should have been the one clinging to her virtue, but had Mort showed the slightest crack in his self-control, Narcissa would have given less-than-no resistance.

Now, as she whimpered and wrapped her sheets tightly around herself, it no longer seemed funny- it seem cruelly ironic. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so painful, physically, at least, if she hadn't been a virgin. Rodtimer's touches and kisses had always excited her, but she hadn't even been able to tolerate the _idea_ of Lucius's. She knew that she would never understand the joys of such intimacies; it was one of her many, many regrets.

* * *

Despite all the issues she had falling asleep, Narcissa awoke at quarter after eight the next morning to find she was starving- she'd been unable to eat a bite yesterday due to nerves. She tumbled out of bed, wincing slightly as she did so, and blindly found her way to the bathroom to tug a comb through her unruly locks several times. She found a thick, fluffy bathrobe hanging on the back of her door and pulled it on. 

It took Narcissa three seconds after stepping out into the corridor to realize she had not idea where she was, nor how to reach the dining room. She hovered indecisively for several seconds before walking down the hallway to a second door: Lucius's. She'd been shown the door only in passing on her exceptionally abbreviated tour of the Manor. Lifting one hand, Narcissa knocked tentatively and waited, but there was no response. Not daring to enter uninvited, she ended up wandering for twenty more minutes before a portrait finally took pity and directed her to the room that she searched for.

When Narcissa pushed the doors open, she was greeted by four stern, unsmiling faces.

"You're late, Narcissa." Terentia spoke first, tone icy. Narcissa blinked in confusion. Lucius's three sister and mother were sitting around the table, clearly in the middle of a meal. More embarrassingly, each was dressed in a proper morning gown and perfectly coiffed.

"Breakfast is every morning at eight, Narcissa. Do not be late again, and be dressed appropriately next time." Mrs. Malfoy addressed her coolly, unsympathetically. Adina didn't even glance up, but it was the look of absolute hatred that Beatrice, the youngest Malfoy sister, shot her that most disturbed her.

"I apologize. I didn't realize-"

"Nevertheless, you now know."

Uncertain and blushing, Narcissa took the seat nearest to her. This received further glares.

"Being married to the heir does not give you the right to sit at the head of the table, Narcissa."

Narcissa flushed an even deeper crimson and leapt up to more carefully examine the seating arrangement. The head had been empty, as well as the seat to its immediate right. Beside it sat Adina, looking haughty. Next to her was Beatrice. On the head's left was Narcissa's mother-in-law, and beside her, Terentia.

"Your seat will be next to Terentia. This is where you are to eat every meal, regardless of whoever else is present, unless sharing a private meal with my son."

"Of course." Narcissa agreed as she moved to sit in her allotted place. She stared uncertainly at her empty plate, before Terentia snapped impatiently, "The meal will be over in five minutes, and you weren't here to be served. You'll have to wait until noon when we eat again."

"I see." Narcissa murmured, ignoring her rumbling stomach.

When the rest finished eating, house elves appeared to clear the table, and Lady Malfoy rose. "There is much to be done today. Narcissa, you must be familiarized with the Manor; I will show you around the house and grounds. Then we will discuss your duties. Lucius will be home at five, and we will eat supper at five thirty. My husband has gone on a business trip and will return on Thursday. Girls," She addressed her daughters with a gentle smile. "You three will practice your music in the study, then read in the conservatory, and then take a walk about the grounds afterwards. Once you've finished with that, Adina, you will write to your fiancé; Terentia, you will recite French, and Tricey, dear, you shall work on your sketching." None one moved. "_Now, _girls." They hurried off, and Mrs. Malfoy turned back to Narcissa. "Let's go then," She sighed.


	9. Chapter 9

"Your duties, Narcissa, will not be terribly trying, nor will they be too expansive, especially not while I am still the Lady of the Manor. You will over see the elves; tell them what should be done. For example, if the furniture in the guest wing needs to be dusted, or the windows in the studies need to be washed, you will tell them that. When the sheets need to be changed, you will let the elves know. You will plan the menus one week in advance; you will need to plan at least one major social event each season. I've taken the liberty of ordering subscriptions to certain magazines that will help give you an idea of what you should be wearing in public- but you are not to spend extravagantly, for that would be crude, and you must not leave the Manor unchaperoned. Of course, you will not feel the full weight of these responsibilities until I am gone. Your main concern, right now, is to conceive an heir as soon as possible- which reminds me, was the marriage consummated last night?"

Narcissa, who had been slightly dizzied by all the tasks that would befall her, blinked and flushed a deep crimson. Mrs. Malfoy's expression showed no shame in asking.

"Yes. It-it was."

"Good. It's best you conceive as soon as possible- I had two daughters before Lucius, so you can't count on having just one child, later in life."

"Of course not. I- I would love to be pregnant as soon as possible," She confessed with surprising honesty. Mrs. Malfoy gave a nod of approval. What Narcissa _didn't _share was that she wished to conceive immediately because the faster she had a baby, the less time she had to endure in bed with Lucius.

"This will be your private study, Narcissa. You may move personal objects in here, and this is where you will receive your mail, write invitations, etcetera. There is a balcony outside those doors that adjoins to Lucius's study, though I highly discourage interrupting him. You shall have a personal elf… Mipsie!"

With a crack, a small elf appeared in regard to the summons. "Mipsie is here, Mistress. How might Mipsie be helping you?"

"Mipsie, you are to help Lady Narcissa from now on. You may begin by changing the sheets in her room and putting away the rest of her belongings."

The elf bobbed in a curtsey and vanished.

"The elves are generally well behaved but for the one, Dobby. A very young one, but frustratingly simple-minded and performs household chores poorly. We would just be rid of him, but he comes from a line of highly devoted servants. Just be wary of that one. Seems averse to washing his pillow case, too- revolting creature." She shook her head and curled her lip slightly before continuing. "As I mentioned, my son will be back at five, today and every other day that he works. You shall be finished with all your tasks by then."

"Oh?" She wasn't entirely certain why; it wasn't as though Lucius spoke to her, paid her any attention, or even showed the slightest desire to be near her. Mrs. Malfoy gave her a severe look.

"I don't know _what _your mother taught you about being a wife, Narcissa." She said coldly. Narcissa scowled. Apparently, it wasn't enough that the Malfoys insult their newest member- they felt the need to sneer at the honourable Druella Black, neé Rosier, as well. "Surely at the very least you know that your duty is to your husband?"

"Of course I do!"

"Do not raise your voice. It's very unappealing and frankly, common. And if you had indeed learned that, then you would know that you should always be available to meet your husband's every whim, especially if it's something as sitting in the parlor in the evening enjoying tea."

Narcissa very much doubted that Lucius would ever want to sit and drink anything with her, but kept her mouth shut, silently fuming.

"And you mustn't question my son. _Ever._" She continued.

"Mrs. Malfoy, am I permitted to visit my family? And friends?"

"Perhaps on holidays. But your family is here now."

* * *

Narcissa's hands were gripping the pages of _Anna Karenina _so tightly they shook. After completing all of her assigned chores uncomplainingly, she'd joined her in-laws in the main parlor with the only book of her own that she'd brought; her favorite. Terentia loudly disapproved of the 'Muggle garbage', Mrs. Malfoy suggested more suitable reading materials (mostly etiquette guides), Adina ignored her, and Beatrice snarled 'faithless' under her breath as she passed.

Now, Narcissa stared at the first page, as she had for the past hour, reading over and over: _"__Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own- Happy families are all alike; every unhappy- Happy families are all- Happy families- families-"_

"…And how was your day?"

Narcissa head jerked up, and she realized that all the other women in the room had risen and moved to the door, where Lucius currently greet his mother.

"Fine." He murmured, moving on to greet his older sisters as well. He didn't smile at either one, of them but still treated them with what could be named affection. Beatrice, however, he embraced and called Tricey, still without a smile, but with a deal more care for her then he'd shown any other family member. His little sister was evidently his favorite.

Narcissa realized, a minute or two late, that she herself should have risen as well. In her haste to get up, the hem of her skirt caught on the chair and she stumbled, colliding with a nearby table. The consequent crash caused all attention to shift to her. Lucius eyes flicked over her for only a heartbeat before announcing quietly,

"I'll be in my study."

As soon as he was gone, Terentia spun, livid. "To lazy to even rise to greet the man you're married to? Mother, I _told _you he should have married Chelsea instead! She knew her place, and could have his heir in less than a month!"

"_Terentia!_ You will mind your tongue. You are dismissed; I do not wish to see you again this evening."

Terentia stalked off, and Mrs. Malfoy turned to her other girls. "Adina, Tricey, you go as well. I think I may need to have a word with Narcissa."

Narcissa blinked in shock. "Mrs. Malfoy, is there something I should be told?" She demanded as the others vanished as well.

"It isn't terribly important." She said with an airy shrug.

"I think I can decide that."

"Chelsea was a friend of Terentia- obviously not any longer, for that would be highly inappropriate. But you know how boys have their indiscretions…" She waved a hand forgivingly.

"This girl, is she pale with dark, curly hair? About this long?"

"Do you know her?"

"She was at the wedding yesterday. You invited her to my wedding? The woman pregnant with my husband's child- at my wedding?"

"She's from a good enough family, and she's a good enough girl; I knew she wouldn't cause any problems."

"Then why didn't Lucius marry her?"

"Because he was betrothed to you, of course."

"Then why wasn't the betrothal broken?" Narcissa cried. "She has more claim to him than I do! She clearly _wants_ to be his wife!"

"Do _not_ raise your voice, Narcissa."

"And this is all just forgiven? What if I had given birth to a child that wasn't Lucius's? I was expected to be a virgin on my wedding night, and Lucius? He can have children with other women?"

"He is a man; you'll quickly learn they can do anything they wish."

"You're absolutely right. And it will be far easier to do so without cumbersome wife to stop him."

"And exactly where do you think you're going?"

"Surely an event as this is enough to get a divorce? Lucius never would have married me if I had been in the same situation."

Mrs. Malfoy actually smiled as she shook her head. "You think it's so easy, Narcissa? You two are magically Bonded- there can be no divorce unless my son so dictates."

"Under any circumstances? What if he beat me? Or locked me up without food? Or brought other women into bed while I slept two doors away? Or-"

"I certainly hope you don't think so little of my son to assume he would partake in any of those actions." Mrs. Malfoy interrupted coolly.

"Well, how would I know? I don't know anything at all about your son!"

"Then I suggest you learn. Come; dinner will be served in several minutes, and you'll not want to be late again."

* * *

"Lucius, could I ask you a question?" Narcissa shifted nervously in her bed as he entered the room. She didn't wait for a response. "Are we going to have a honeymoon? Most married couples do." As much as she disliked Lucius, she could better tolerate his silence then his mother's and sisters' constant heckling.

"Did you want to?"

"Well, it just seemed fitting, considering how we _are _married."

"Right now isn't a very good time to take off from my work. Perhaps later."

…

Later, once he was finished and dozing in her bed (after being reminded once more not to touch her), Narcissa crawled away towards her shower. "Chelsea's a bloody stupid girl for choosing to sleep with him, anyway." She muttered under her breath.


	10. Chapter 10

"Mother," Quick footfalls could be heard outside the parlor. "_Motherrr,_" The voice grew closer, and at last the door burst open, revealing Terentia. "Mother! Oh, mother, it's December first, and father is going to be home tomorrow, and I've been discussing with the elves, and oh mother, _can't _we start now?" Her grey eyes were wide and pleading, and she hopped from one foot to the other in agitation. Mrs. Malfoy sighed.

"Calm yourself, Terentia." Immediately, the young woman stilled. "Go get your sisters; bring them in here."

Terentia turned and waved her waiting siblings forward. Beatrice was grinning, and a faint smile lit Adina's features as well.

"Let's see… Since it is Adina's last Christmas at home, I believe it only fair that she lead the decorating. I shall be around in three hours to check your progress." Mrs. Malfoy's words were detached, but her eyes sparkled as the girls scampered off. Narcissa half rose as well, but a sharp look from her mother-in-law quickly made it clear that she would not be joining in the festivities.

"I think it best if you do not participate this year; you wouldn't understand how it was to be done."

Narcissa lowered herself back in her seat and lifted the book she had been reading once more: _The Lady's Handbook: A Manuscript on Proper Etiquette for Pureblood Wives and Mothers._

Mrs. Malfoy had recommended it.

As they sat in silence, Narcissa could hear the sound of carols coming from whatever room the three sisters were preparing for the holiday season, often punctuated by delighted shrieks and laughter. Narcissa shifted, thinking longingly of her own home, where her mother, father, and Bella would most certainly be beginning their decorating as well.

"Do stop fidgeting, Narcissa. It's most unappealing. Surely Druella taught you better?"

"I- my mother-"

"Although, what with the behaviour of you other sisters…" She shook her head and tutted softly.

"I have only one sister." Narcissa replied tersely, fingers tightening on the edge of the rulebook that had been forced upon her.

"Any more, of course. You know what they say, gone but not forgotten…"

"Andromeda made a mistake that had nothing to do with the rest of us!" Narcissa cried, leaping up. Mrs. Malfoy arched one brow disdainfully.

"Take a seat Narcissa, and _please_ do not shout. I wish not to ask you again."

Positively quivering with rage, she forced herself back down.

"And the erratic actions of that Bellatr-"

"Aethel?" The door to the study opened suddenly, and Mrs. Malfoy leapt up with a gasp.

"Abraxas," She hurried over to greet her husband with a chaste peck on the cheek, but she silently glowed as he gave her hand a brief squeeze.

"Aethelfled, are the girls decorating already?"

"They wished to surprise you tomorrow… But you're home early?"

"I am indeed, and it's an excellent thing to be so, my dear Aethelfrith. Tell me, what-" He paused, eyes coming to rest upon Narcissa at last.

"Little Miss Black?" He seemed briefly surprised, before giving a self-depreciating laugh. "Or little Mrs. Malfoy, I suppose I should say. How are you, Narcissa?"

She rose quickly, and wondered briefly if she ought to curtsy. "I'm quite well, Mr. Malfoy."

"I must insist that you call me Abraxas, for it might become confusing as there are two Mr. Malfoys residing here."

"Of course, Mr. M… Abraxas."

"Now, Narcissa, why don't you go help the girls with decorating?"

"I…" She glanced uncertainly at Mrs. Malfoy, but she hadn't taken her eyes from Abraxas since he had walked into the room. "Alright, then." She put her book down, and slipped quietly from the room, hearing Abraxas ask as she closed the door,

"Now, Aetheldreda, what happened while I was away?"

Narcissa followed the sound of the festivity to the family dining room. She wasn't immediately noticed by the sisters or assisting elves, as the dashed about levitating candles and garlands, wreaths and colorful bows. A radio in the corner piped out Christmas music, and Beatrice sang along in a sweet, almost angelic voice. Terentia was louder and horribly off key, and Adina simply hummed along as she opened a box of live, glittering faeries.

Quite suddenly, Beatrice fell silent, causing Adina to pause.

"What is it, Tricey?"  
But Beatrice didn't reply. She simply stared at Narcissa with such loathing that she nearly ducked back out if the room. Terentia turned, and made a sound of disgust.

"What do _you_ want?"

"I- your father told me to come in here and help decorate."

"Father is home?" Adina sprang up, and the girls dashed from the room without another glance at Narcissa.

Dinner that night was cheerful and festive, a large, delicious spread to celebrate Abraxas' return home. The girls chattered away incessantly, Lucius said little and smiled not at all but seemed to be in a generally better mood than was his norm, and Mrs. Malfoy positively shone with happiness. Narcissa sat rigidly in her chair, carefully ate only half of what was placed before her, and was sure to be seen and not heard. She'd always imagined Abraxas Malfoy as a fearsome man, and she supposed he cold be if he so chose, but in the comfort of his own home, with his closest family, it became evident why they all adored him as they did. He was clever and witty, and his easy smile charmed anyone it was directed at. When she'd caught glimpses of him before the wedding, Narcissa had thought him to be similar to her son, but the two couldn't be more different. While nearly identical in hair, build, and facial structure, Abraxas' grey eyes had a liveliness that was completely absent in son's cold stare. It took her only one meal to decide that the Malfoy patriarch was undoubtedly her favorite member of the clan, far surpassing her own husband in likeability.

Narcissa retired early that evening. She was perched at the window seat when she heard Lucius knock softly twice, to announce his presence, and quietly push open the door without further invitation, as he did every night.

"Lucius?" She asked, gathering the nerve before he summoned her to bed. Still gazing out the window, she rushed on, "Lucius, I was wondering… May I go home for Christmas?"

He didn't reply for several seconds, and she was about to repeat her query when he at last responded, "You are home."

"You know what I meant. My _real_ home, with my parents and my sister."

Again, a pause. "If you'd like."

She hopped up and turned to face him, grinning. "Splendid. I'll owl them tomorrow telling them I'll be spending the season, and have my things packed and ready as soon as they respond! Or," She strode over to her desk. "I'll owl them now!" She pulled out parchment and a quill, and hastily scribbled:

_Dear Mum,_

_I'll be coming to visit for the holidays. Expect me as soon as I get your owl back! I miss you all so much!_

_Love, Narcissa_

Ignoring Lucius, who was standing uncomfortably in the middle of her room, she woke her caged owl and tied the letter to its leg.

"Now, I know you're sleepy, but do fly quickly!" She encouraged, flinging open a window and tossing the disgruntled bird out. "Go on, then!"

Once the owl had disappeared from sight, she turned around, still smiling to see Lucius was still there. Immediately, her good humour evaporated, and she glanced sullenly towards the bed. However, she knew better then to complain, though every night she performed a quick, hopeful pregnancy indicating charm. And besides, she reasoned as she climbed unwilling beneath the sheets and flicked out the lights, she would be able to spend the entire holiday in her own bed, _alone._ She smiled into the totally blackness at the thought, and withdrew inside her mind, trying to be totally unaware of her body.

At least it didn't hurt anymore. Not after the first couple of times, though it was uncomfortable and embarrassing. He treated her like something terribly fragile, and at her repeated insistence, touched her no more than was physically necessary. Still, she hated how _close _he was. She'd never wanted anybody but Mort so near to her, and before she'd met Rodtimer, Narcissa's family had teased her about the way she'd shied away from hugs and such, even from her parents.

When he was finished, Lucius didn't move away to the other side of the bed, as he ought to have done, but kept one arm around her waist, and his forehead rested against her shoulder. She wriggled slightly, hoping he'd get the hint, but he didn't move. She tried shifting away, but he was far too strong- she doubted he even notice her struggle. Finally, unable to tolerate another second of his warm breath on her arm she begged,

"Please Lucius, let me go!"

He immediately complied, drawing away as if she'd burnt him, and Narcissa scrambled up and darted to her bathroom, eager to shower away his scent on her skin.

"Mipsie?" Her house elf appeared with a pop. "Go put fresh sheets on the bed, won't you?" With a nod, the elf vanished again, and Narcissa stepped under the jet of steaming water.

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

"Narcissa, darling, how wonderful to see you again!" The moment she opened the door, Narcissa found herself folded into her mothers arms. "Come in side, everyone is in the parlour…"

"'Everyone'?" She echoed curiously, smiling as she walked into the familiar foyer.

"Yes, dear, the Lestranges are visiting. Although I suspect Bellatrix and Rodolphus have wandered off by now…"

"Is Rebastan here?"

"He is, and come to think of it, it might be better of you two went to track down your siblings." She opened the door to their formal sitting room, and Rodolphus and Bella had indeed vanished. Rebastan looked exceptionally bored, but stood and gave a sad sort of smile to Narcissa as she entered. Despite all propriety, she flew across the room and into her friend's arms.

"I've missed you, 'Bastan," She mumbled into his shoulder. He patted her back uncomfortably.

"Yeah, me too Cissy. I, erm…" He glanced around uncertainly.

"Won't you two go fetch Bellatrix and Rodolphus?" Druella asked gracefully. They quickly agreed, and went out into the corridor.

"How are you, Narcissa?" He asked as soon as the door was closed behind them. She took his arm and they began to wander aimlessly through the large manor.

"I'm…" She shook her head, horrified to find that tears were choking her. "I've been better. I really have."

"Are… Are you hurt?"

_So much,_ she wanted to reply, but knew that Rebastan wasn't referring to her emotional well being. "No. Lucius hasn't… He's not like that. And how is…" She knew that if she said his name, she'd lose her composure entirely.

"Rodtimer isn't well, Narcissa; I won't lie to you. He's still not moved out of his parent's house yet, which may be a good thing, because he's hardly in any state to take care of himself. I visit him sometimes, and Narcissa, he… he's not himself anymore. I don't know what else to say. He doesn't want to eat, or go out… or live, Narcissa. He needs you-"

"Stop!" She half yelled, half sobbed. "You think I don't need him too? I don't know if I can survive another day in that house!"

"You said Malfoy didn't-"

"Oh, he'd never hit me, I don't think, but spending even the little time I do with him is a nightmare; he cold and emotionless and just… awful! And his mother and sisters have made it their personal life goal to make me as miserable as humanly possible, and it's just so lonely and… and… I _miss _him!" She was crying in earnest by the time she finished, and buried her face in her friend's shoulder once more. "Sometimes I wake up and can't even see the point in getting up for the day… and the nights where I would happily fall asleep and never wake up."

He held her silently for several moments, before replying quietly, "I don't know what to say. I've got connections at the Ministry… remember Augustus Rookwood? He said it was easy to get into marriage files, and for a few extra galleons, he found your marriage contract. I- I read through it for Rodtimer, I hope you don't mind… It essentially said you were Malfoy's possession; did you know that? He can grant you a divorce, but you can't file one for yourself under any circumstances. And in the case of a divorce, Malfoy would get anything he wanted: full custody of any children you two might have, any of your inheritance, anything that was yours before the marriage; if he wanted to divorce you, he could throw you into the streets with nothing but the clothes on your back- not even that. There's no loophole, none, and trust me, I spent hours, _days_ looking. I'm sorry, Narcissa."

He held her for several more long minutes, before gently breaking away. "But I'm sure it isn't _all _bad. I've seen the Malfoy Manor before (bloody huge) - and I know how much you love shopping. Maybe you can go drain his vault at Gringotts as revenge, eh?"

He joke did nothing towards improving her disposition. In fact, fresh tears were welling in her eyes, but she asked in a would-be casual voice, "So how is everything in your life, Rebastan? Clearly you're busy in the Ministry."

"I miss my best friends. I don't see Rodolphus much; he's usually over here with Bellatrix, or… otherwise engaged. I'm looking for a flat in London- can you believe it? _I'm_ looking for a _flat_! No luck though, not yet."

"Well, that's wonde-"

"Cissy! Cissy, you're home!" There was a flash of crimson and black and a sudden overwhelming scent of sharp perfume; Bellatrix flung her arms around her younger sister. "Tell me you've not been here too long; I was just showing Roddy about-"

"Surely he's got the place memorized by now?"

"Bugger off, Rebastan. Hello, Narcissa. How've you been?" He flashed her a quick grin, but Narcissa could tell he didn't truly care; his eyes didn't leave Bella for a moment.

"Fine, thank you. Rebastan, perhaps we should go back now that we've found them?"

"Yes, good idea." Narcissa replied awkwardly. She and Rebastan turned to walk side by side back the way they came, and the engaged couple fell in step behind them. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Rodolphus wrap an arm around Bella's waist and lean over to kiss her temple in an uncharacteristically affection gesture, and Narcissa couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as she turned away.

* * *

"Oh, there you all are. Come, children, it's time for supper."

"Hello, Mrs. Yaxley. I apologize for calling so late… Is Rodtimer here?"

The older woman sighed. "Of course he is, Rebastan. Up in his room, as per usual. You may go up."

With a brief nod, Rebastan moved past her and mounted the familiar path to his friend's bedroom.

"Rodtimer?" He knocked once to announce his arrival, and pushed the door open. It was nearly black within, and Rebastan immediately reached out to switch on the lights. The room was flooded with brightness, and while his eyes adjusted, Rebastan heard a hiss of pain from somewhere nearby.

"Turn it bloody off!"

"No, Rodtimer, I won't. I saw Narcissa today."

"What?" His head shot up, his dark, tortured blue eyes hungry for information. "Where? Is she all right? Did you talk to her? What did she say?" He sprang to his feet.

"She's at her parent's house for the holidays. She's… She's alright, I suppose, but certainly not fantastic. She's miserable with Malfoy and his family, but he's never physically hurt her. She misses you."

"Can I go see her?"

"I'm not entirely sure the Blacks would take that well… They were the ones who arranged the marriage, after all."

"Rebastan, I want…"

"I know." He sighed heavily. "I know."

* * *

Narcissa's spirits soared in the weeks that followed. She rejoiced in having the constant scrutiny gone, she loved sleeping alone and late into the morning, reveling in attention of her parents and the company of her sister. It was just like the Christmases of her childhood, and she enjoyed herself immensely. No one made any uncomfortable mentions of her husband or married life, and she very nearly succeeded in convincing herself that she was, in fact, an unwed virgin, still free to do whatever she liked.

It was, of course, Bellatrix who shattered this illusion, by bursting into Narcissa's bedroom around two in the morning, and demanding,

"When did you get here, Narcissa?"

"I… wha?" She mumbled sleepily.

"Here. For the holidays. When?"

"Erm… December second. Why?"

"Do you know what today is?" She didn't wait for a reply. "February twelfth. You've been here two and a half months- Have you had any contact with your husband since you left?"

"No. Why does that matter?"

"When were you planning on going back to Wiltshire?"

"I…" She buried her head in her pillow. "I wasn't."

"Well, I'm afraid you must, Cissy, and likely soon. It doesn't look well that the newly wed Mrs. Malfoy is hiding out with Mummy and Daddy."

Narcissa lifted her head, frowning suddenly at her sister.

"Bella… Where have you been?" There was an odd scent of smoke and alcohol hanging in the air around her. She seemed to be wearing odd black robes as well.

"Go back to bed, Cissy. We'll talk in the morning." She quickly retreated from the room, and Narcissa had drifted off in seconds. However, when she awoke the next morning and headed down to breakfast, Bellatrix was already up, sipping coffee and reading the Prophet, and eager to continue their conversation.

"Why don't you want to go back, Cissy? I'd have though you'd be glad to get away."

"I love it here. And… Not there."

"I know Lucius. He can't be so bad to you. He knows what's going on, that's for certain, and he makes good decisions. I'm sure he treats you well enough."

"It isn't that he treats me _badly_, just so… Indifferently. And I don't want to even be married to him. Mort-"

"Good morning, girls! How are you two?" Druella glided into the room and smiled at her daughters.

"Quite well, mother. I was just talking to Cissy about how she intends to return to the Malfoy Manor today."

"Do you, Narcissa? Well, it's been lovely having you here, but I agree, you should be going soon. Do give Aethel my regards."

Narcissa scowled at her sister, but had no choice to return to her room after breakfast and begin packing. It took a fair deal of time to reassemble all the items that had returned to their homes in the room she'd lived in since her birth, but far too soon, she stood with her trunks and no more excuses for delay.

She bid her parents farewell and a promise to visit again as soon as possible, but had nothing to say to her sister. Shouldn't Bellatrix, if no one else, understand how she dreaded returning? And yet, she'd practically pushed her away! She stepped into the floo.

"Malfoy Manor!"

She'd always hated the uncleanliness of traveling in such a manner, but it was the most convenient, and the grates of all homes of pureblooded nobility were kept nicely swept. However, it dawned on her moment after she stumbled out of the fireplace at her destination that the manor had any number of hearths, and the room she had arrived in was entirely unfamiliar. Though sumptuous, there was an air of practicality about, with high mahogany bookshelves lined heavily with dusty tomes, and a gargantuan writing desk, piled with parchment, quills and other more curious knickknacks: a sneakascope, a revealer, a massive book with pages that appeared to be turning themselves, and a remembrall. Beside the desk sat, upon a stand, the largest astronomical model Narcissa had ever seen, the sun in the center blazing brightly, and each tiny planet rotating and revolving accordingly. In a glass case nearer to her, an antique Axminster was proudly exhibited. Directly to her other side, another glass case held a broomstick. The display sported a golden plaque that read "_Moontrimmer, 1901, Gladys Boothby. Original"_. In a square, uncarpeted corner of the room, a handsome cauldron of what appeared to be solid gold sat alongside one clearly made of polished Fire-crab shell, flanked by cabinets that Narcissa assumed to be filled with potion ingredients. Stepping forward, her eyes fell upon a beautifully crafted chess set of onyx and opal. The intricate figures were shifting impatiently, evidently bored from disuse. A sudden chiming caused Narcissa to jump, but it was only a clock, a stately grandfather one, with four golden hands denoting the time to a tenth of a second. Her gaze wandered once more to the bookshelves, where on one, a misty crystal ball acted as a bookend. She began to read several titles: _Moste Potente Potions, Sonnets of a Sorcerer, The Monster Books of Monsters _(Which quivered ominously, despite being pressed quite tightly between _An Anthology of Eighteenth Century Charms _and_Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires__Death Omens: What To Do When You Know The Worst Is Coming, Fifteenth Century Fiends, A Guide to Medieval Sorcery, Magick Most Evile __and Hélas, Je me suis Transfiguré mes Pieds. _This last title snared her interest, and she reached to pluck it from its home.

"The only comedy you'll find in here, I'm afraid, though you may want to be careful whilst removing it from that particular shelf."

Narcissa gasped in alarm; she hadn't heard anyone enter. "I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

Abraxas smile gently, disarmingly, at her. "Here, let me help you." He reached above her and ran one finger down the spine of _The Monster Book of Monsters_. The tremors stilled, and he then handed her_ Hélas, Je me suis Transfiguré mes Pieds._ "By Malecrit; have you read the translated version? Or are you fluent in French?"

"I-I know a bit. My family motto is French, and we have quite a number of relatives there."

"Well, it loses some of the humor in English, but if you don't understand it all, you'll miss out as well; it's a political satire, as many comedic plays are, discussing the incompetence of the Ministry. You may find some of the points are still relevant today."

"Erm, thank you, Mr. Malfoy."

"Abraxas," He corrected gently. "I trust your holidays were enjoyable?"

"Very."

"And you parents and sister are well? Bellatrix is getting married soon, is she not?"

"Yes, next month, the Rodolphus Lestrange."

Abraxas chuckled slightly at that. "Is he still so difficult? What an unruly child that one was. Aethel and Lorraine Lestrange were dear friends in their school days, and she used to tell me that Lorraine was positively driven mad by her eldest son's antics, climbing tapestries and breaking crystal dishes and such."

Despite herself, Narcissa grinned. "Oh, I'm sure he did. He's quite stubborn and can be rude, but I believe he and Bella are well suited."

"And why is that?"

"Oh, Bellatrix need to be married to someone just as fanatic as she is about everything; they'll have fun together, they'll exhaust each other, they'll never have children because Bella says she'd rather died than give birth, and Rodolphus is one of the few men who won't care. They'll make one another happy, but neither will be in control. Bella could never stand to be inferior to a husband."

She wondered suddenly if she'd said too much, but Abraxas simply nodded. "My eldest daughter is getting married in a month, to Thorfinn Rowle. I believe it will be a good match for her; Adina is quiet, and needs to be cared for, but she's much like her mother as well."

"I'm sure, as your father, you would know best…" Narcissa responded carefully.

"Terentia is more difficult, I've not chosen a husband for her yet, but I was thinking the young Rosier boy for Tricey-"

"Even Rosier!" Narcissa exclaimed, unable to hide her surprise. Abraxas frowned slightly.

"Yes… Do you know him?"

"I went to Hogwarts with him. He's so funny and outspoken and Beatrice…" She paused suddenly. What about Beatrice? She didn't know a thing about the girl! But to imagine the sullen little fifteen-year-old with lively, handsome, and charming Evan Rosier didn't seem right.

"Tricey is a unique child, but I'm confident she can adapt anywhere."

Narcissa thought of the hateful looks the girl saved specifically for her, but simply shrugged and curled her toes in the thick, crimson carpet.

"This… This is a lovely room. I've never seen it before." She said at last, glancing around at the fascinating distractions. Abraxas smiled warmly at the statement.

"It's my private study. I keep my broad accumulation of odds and ends in here, as well as my personal collections of books."

Narcissa's eyes widened. "You've read _all _of these?"

"Well, not quite all. Clearly not this one, for example," He lifted _Sonnets of a Sorcerer_. "As you can well see, I'm not speaking in limericks."

The large clock chimed again, and Abraxas glanced at it. "It's time for supper; shall we go? You must be famished after traveling across Britain by floo." He offered his arm in a playfully grand gesture; Narcissa accepted it with a small giggle, and they strode together to the dining room. When he opened the door for her, she found that the rest of the family was just taking their seats.

"Look who's back. And here I was beginning to hope that she might never come home."

"Terentia," Narcissa froze halfway to her seat. Abraxas was regarding his daughter sternly. "Narcissa was visiting her family. Surely after you're wed you will come back here to visit us?"

"Of course father-"

"Then why do you criticize Narcissa for doing the same?" It was a rhetorical question that merited no response, but Terentia sat agape. In fact, the entire Malfoy family seemed vaguely upset by the patriarch's offhanded defense of an outsider. Everyone except Lucius, who sat at his father's right hand and didn't have so much as a nod for his wife who'd been absent for nearly two and a half months; he kept his eyes firmly set on some spot directly ahead. Abraxas seemed unruffled as he sat at the head of his table; Narcissa took her place as the lowest ranking member. It hadn't taken her long learn that status with the clan was denoted by where each person sat: As the most powerful, Abraxas was at the head. His heir held the second highest position at his immediate right, and Mrs. Malfoy was next, sitting at her husband's left. Beside Lucius was Adina, the eldest sister, and across from her was the middle daughter, Terentia. Before Lucius's marriage, Beatrice, as the youngest, had been at the lowest position; third from the right. But now Narcissa sat across from her, on the left, and any proper pureblood who saw the set up would immediately see that Narcissa held little standing within the high profile family.

* * *

As Narcissa crawled into bed that evening, two soft knocks on the door caused her to glance up in dismay; Lucius entered a moment later. She scowled at him as he approached, but he didn't seem to be looking at her. He didn't immediately move into bed bedside her, but instead settled upon a nearby settee.

"Did you enjoy your holidays?" He queried mildly.

"Yes. I loved seeing my family and friends again, and just being home, sleeping in my own bed… Alone…" She added under her breath.

He nodded briefly, apparently seeing this as a satisfactory exchange between a husband and wife separated for over two months. However, as he stood up and began to unbutton his shirt, Narcissa drew a quick breath.

"Lucius, I've been gone for an awfully long time, and I'm quite tired, and might I just have one night to get used to being back here?"

He paused for a moment, expression unreadable as usual, before nodding once more. Without another words, he left the room. Narcissa sighed in delight, though it was only a temporary happiness. Until she became pregnant, she wouldn't be left alone. Of course Lucius hadn't objected to their separation for this night; it was evidently as much of a duty to him as it was an uncomfortable embarrassment to her.

With a flick of her wand, the room went dark.

* * *


	12. Chapter 12

_…And it's certainly been far too long since we've chatted in person, Cissy. We must have tea sometime- or whatever it is that proper married women do. Again, I apologize for not inviting you to the wedding, but it was an elopement, and having guests would defeat the point. I know you're upset, but you're acting _so_ childish about it. Ignoring my owls- and you know how I hate writing owls anyway! So it's settled. I'll see you on Sunday at noon._

_ Bellatrix Lestrange_

Narcissa gritted her teeth and crumpled the letter in her fist. She was considering hurling it in the fireplace as well, but the sound of a door opening stilled the motion.

"Good evening Narcissa. Mail, have you?"

She smiled at Abraxas from where she sat, curled in one of the settees in his expansive study.

"From my sister. Bella says she coming to visit this weekend."

"Did she?" Abraxas moved to pour himself a drink before joining her in a nearby armchair by the hearth. "I thought you were giving no response to her post?"

"Oh, I'm not. But Bella is Bella- If she's made up her mind that she'll be here on Sunday, she'll be here on Sunday."

"I see." He swirled his scotch thoughtfully, before asking, "Did you have a pleasant day, Narcissa?"

"Oh, alright, I suppose. I was alone, mostly." She shrugged half-heartedly. "And how was yours?"

"All hectic, as to be expected. While Aethel and the girls are about the city picking out gowns and shoes and other frivolities, I've been revising and re-editing Adina's contract, deciding precisely what that ungrateful Rowle boy gets in addition to my little girl…" He grumbled darkly under his breath for a moment, before looking back up at Narcissa with an apologetic smile. "Please excuse my behavior. I've never been so involved in a wedding before- certainly not my own, and I had Lucius do a fair deal of the contracting for his own marriage- for practice, you see. I edited the final draft, but there was never so much minutiae incorporated in that." He shook his head and downed the remainder of his drink.

"You evidently care a great deal for your daughters," Narcissa murmured.  
"Well, I'm just glad I don't have to got through the same process for you, Narcissa; you're turn is over." He flashed her a quick grin and Narcissa smiled back shyly, inwardly glowing over the fact that he though of her as a daughter. "Supper should be served momentarily, and I'm famished." He stood, and she rose as well. "Have you finished that book yet?"

"Oh, very nearly. It's quite fascinating."

"I'm glad you think so. It's one of my personal favorites-"

"Abraxas," A voice interrupted suddenly, causing Narcissa to jump slightly. Mrs. Malfoy ignored her daughter-in-law as she addressed her husband. "Might I have a word with you?"

"Is it not time for supper, Aethel?" He seemed mildly taken aback at the uncharacteristically stiff tone of her voice.

"The children can eat; we shall join them later. But I must have a word with you. Alone."

They moved back into Abraxas' study, but Aethel paused at the doorway to give Narcissa a rather pointed glare before vanishing inside as well. Feeling indignant and more than a little curious, Narcissa ignored to obvious implication that she was meant to go, and tiptoed over to the door, foolishly left ajar.

"…Odd time for a discussion, Aethelfled."

She seemed untaken with his pet name for her.

"I didn't want to be interrupted. I'm concerned for Adina, and I know if I say anything to her, she will deny it, but I don't think she wishes this wedding to occur."

"That's a fairly strong accusation; what reasons have you to think it true?"

"Call it a hunch, or a mother's intuition. Adina is an obedient girl, and she won't ever complain outright like Terentia."

"The girl is probably just nervous. She doesn't very well know the Rowle boy."

"Perhaps… Perhaps that _is_ a problem in itself."

"Are you implying, Aethel, that I should not have arranged this marriage for her?" There was something rather imperious in his tone, and his wife was suddenly submissive and soothing.

"I'm worried about our daughter, is all."

"Well don't be. After all," He gave his wife a playful grin, "I like to think our marriage was quite satisfactory, even if our parents were the ones who planned it out. And I do recall _someone _being quite nervous beforehand- terrified, if my memory serves me." Abraxas gave a warm, deep chuckle, and placed his hands around his wife's waist, pressing his lips affectionately to her forehead.

"Oh, _do _stop teasing me," Her face was atypically red. "I was just a little girl then, and you _did_ give quite a terrifying visage."

"That so? Still, the theatrical tears may have been unnecessary." He lifted her onto the edge of his desk, and dipped his head to her neck.

"I know, but you were very patient with me." She reached up to root her fingers in his pale blonde hair.

"Well, its fortunate I was so young then, for my patience seems only to have waned with age, quite contrary to popular adages."

Blushing deeply, Narcissa ducked back and heard, as she retreated quickly towards the dining room, a crash that she assumed was Abraxas sweeping impeding trinkets from his desk.

When she pushed open the heavy doors, it quickly became clear that she was intruding here as well. Beatrice was leaning forward on her knees and elbows to hear what her older brother was saying, Adina and Terentia were giggling across the table at something, and Lucius seemed to be imparting some humorous anecdote to his littlest sibling. Though he didn't smile himself, she was grinning wickedly.

"… So I opened the door and thanked him for the return of my change, and that I'd known it had fallen, but the sum was too pitiful to bother bending down to pick up, let alone craw on my hands and knees as he did."

"And was he mortified? Weasleys always turn so bright red!" Beatrice giggled nastily.

"I should say he was." Lucius drawled amusedly. "Especially when I offered him a knut for his effort. Surprisingly, he refused."

The three sisters exploded into gales of laughter. However, Beatrice's eyes happened to fall upon Narcissa, and her smile vanished. Terentia followed her gaze as well and sneered.

"Well, look who decided to show u-"

"Oh, _don't_!" Narcissa exploded, shocking herself at the vehemence in her own voice. "You're parents aren't here either, and I highly doubt you'll be criticizing _them_!" She dropped into her seat at the lowest position of the group and waited in the heavy silence to be served by a suddenly present elf. Terentia stared, agape, for several seconds, before turning to her brother, who was quietly eating his meal.

"Well, Lucius, aren't you going to say something to your wife? She has no right to speak to me as such."

Narcissa gritted her teeth and braced herself for a calm, patronizing lecture- but none came. Lucius continued to silently eat his meal.

"Brother?" She demanded expectantly.

"I don't believe this is a conversation that should be discussed here and now, Terentia." He replied softly.

"_I _do!" She continued to push, although the expression on Lucius's face made it quite clear that he was finished with the conversation. His eyes returned to his plate. "Lucius,"

"_Enough_, Terentia. I would think that you would not like to be chastised before your family, but if you would so prefer, perhaps you would hear that I find my wife well within her rights to arrive several minutes late to what is clearly not a formal meal, as she has quite aptly indicated that our parents are in fact absent. Perhaps you would also like to know that I've found your behaviour for the past several months just short of atrocious, and that it is grating upon the nerves of every member of this household. I once believed you to be a mature, independent-minded adult, but you have been acting as a sullen, spoiled child, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself- you are certainly shaming the rest of your family."

His tone was quiet, clipped, and icy. No one moved except Lucius, who lifted his fork once more and proceeded with his meal. Narcissa knew she ought not make eye contact with anyone, but somehow she found herself looking across the table at Beatrice. To her immense shock, the usual, hateful glare was absent, replaced instead by a distinctly curious one. The gentle clinks of Lucius's dining were interrupted by the loud scraping of a chair and Terentia's rapid footsteps as she ran from the room. Still, no one spoke, but Adina lifted her silverware and began to eat as well. Minutes later, the door opened, and Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy entered, perfectly composed and coiffed. They showed little concern over the fact that no one spoke, until Abraxas noticed that his second daughter was absent.

"Lucius, where is Terentia?"  
Lucius gaze met his father's squarely. "I believe she said she had a headache and wished to lie down."

Had Narcissa not witnessed the scene, she realized with a start that she would have believed his words unquestioningly. Abraxas certainly did; he gave a brief nod and began eating supper. _Such a gifted liar, too?_ The thought made her uncomfortable. _Has he ever lied to me?_ The answer was obvious: Of course not; he'd ever told her anything worth lying about.

…

That night, Narcissa was sitting upright in her bed when Lucius knocked once, twice, and pushed the door open. His expression was calm, but Narcissa noted that something about his movements wasn't quite right- while each motion was usually fluid and relaxed, he appeared slightly more agitated. As he began undressing, she took a deep breath, and spoke.

"I… I wanted to thank you for today, at dinner. It was kind of you to defend my tardiness against Terentia-"

"It was not kindness." He tone was sharp and abrupt. "I spoke only the truth, and though I do detest such conspicuous disputes, my sister has been exceptionally pugnacious of late, and she did insist." Finished with the task of disrobing, he strode towards the bed. "And I suggest you do not arrive belated again."

Any hint of previous gratitude evaporated at his acrid words. She gave him an icy look as he slid beneath the sheets. When she replied, her tone was aloof.

"I'll try to remember that."

Lucius stiffened suddenly, and darted out of the bed.

"I have to go." His voice was rough, and Narcissa noticed that he gripped his left arm as he moved swiftly from the room, not even bothering to gather his clothing.

"That was odd." She announced to no one in particular.

…

"Cissy, doll!" Narcissa found herself engulfed in her sister's heavily perfumed embrace at noon on Sunday. "_Splendid_ house you've ended yourself up in. So give me a tour, unless you sleep here?" Bellatrix snorted derisively. "I can't see Lucius allowing _that_." She nudged her sister playfully, but frowned when Narcissa gritted her teeth and forced a grin.

"No, no, there're bedrooms…"

"I don't care about the bedrooms. What is it, Cissy?"

Narcissa sighed and shook her head, leading the way to the study that had been assigned to her and striding out through a set of double doors onto the balcony, into the bright sunlight. She glanced down the length of it, noting there was an ajar door some distance down that she assumed led to another room in the Manor- she'd never bothered to investigate. Bellatrix caught up and stared at her sister accusingly.

"Out with it. Has Malfoy hurt you? If he's laid a finger on you, I swear I'll rip him limb from bloody limb, and personally make sure that he never-"

"No, it isn't like that, Bella."

"Oh. Good. I didn't think Lucius was the type anyway. Is it still about the Yaxley boy?"

"I-" She tried valiantly, but found it was still impossible to speak of Mort. "It's miserable being here. Lady Malfoy is some like some cruel, unjust tyrant, and the girls are just _dreadful_! And Lucius… I can't stand him! He's heartless, and unconcerned, and every night- _every night_! He- he- it makes me literally sick, Bellatrix, when he touches me, and he's in my room every night, and I'm just going to go mad here with these people! I hate Aethel because she criticizes everything I do, I hate Terentia because she wants my life to be hell, I hate Beatrice because she's a superior little brat, but I hate Lucius more than the rest of them combined, because it's his fault I'm here!"

She stopped, abruptly, herself unprepared for the mildly hysterical outburst. Before she could rectify her words, Bellatrix burst into raucous laughter.

"Goodness, Cissy, I didn't realize you-! Well, never mind that. I suppose Lucius _can _be an awful bore, and his mother and sisters _do_ always seem to be in an awful snit whenever I've seen them."

She didn't understand. Narcissa sank slowly into a chaise as Bellatrix chatted on, unable to wrap her mind around the fact that her sister, her _Bella_, simply didn't understand what she was suffering. They'd grown up together, they knew everything of the other, and while, true, Bellatrix had never read her quite the way Dromeda had, they'd been as close as two human beings could possibly be, and yet, she didn't understand. No one did.

Narcissa had never felt quite so alone in her life, and neither of the two young women noticed when the door several paces down the balcony clicked softly shut.

…

There were two quiet knocks upon her bedroom door before Lucius pushed it open, looking characteristically solemn. He shrugged out of his clothes, but did not turn out the lights and finish his business quickly to leave his wife in peace; instead, he sat down upon the edge of the bed, back to her. It was fascinating, as she regarded his pale, flawless skin, that she could be so utterly repulsed by him. He shifted almost imperceptibly, and she watched the smooth, powerful muscles just below the surface with nothing short of loathing.

"Is there a problem?" She asked tersely after a lengthy moment of stillness.

"If you-" He began quickly, but cut himself off just as abruptly. "Never mind." He flicked his wand at the lamps, and she felt him lie beside her, for several more extensive, awkward seconds. She vaguely wondered what the issue might be and wished he'd get over it soon- she was rather exhausted. Finally he stood, gathered his clothing, and left without uttering a word, and Narcissa smiled as she snuggled into her comforter and fell promptly asleep.


	13. Chapter 13

Two knocks, then the door swung silently open, just as on every Monday and Thursday, as of late. Narcissa sat rigidly below her sheets, and before her husband could begin undressing, she cleared her throat nervously.

"Lucius, could I have a word?" She requested, twisting the silky fabric in her lap. He nodded once, and moved beside her, hovering awkwardly by the bed before Narcissa decided to move over just enough for him to perch uncomfortably beside her.

"I… I'm pregnant." She blurted. She'd found out only this morning, but would waste no time in relaying the information.

For a moment, nothing happened. When it started, it was as the vague glimmer she'd seen before in his eyes, one which indicated happiness. However, it didn't stop there. The corner of his mouth twitched, and slowly, terribly slowly, in the way of an unpracticed, unused movement, it began to curl upwards. And then, he was smiling.

She'd never seen him smile before. Gone was the icy, aloof manner, and he suddenly seemed far more human, far more likeable. He had his father's charming grin, though it was used so rarely, it seemed much more meaningful.

She was speechless, and it seemed that he was as well, albeit for different reasons.

"Narcissa," He breathed, adding another little unexpected shock; he'd never called her by her given name.

He'd very near immobilized her with surprise, but when he reached out to place a gently cradling hand at her jaw line and leaned forward, she quickly shook off her paralysis and jumped back.

Abruptly, the smile vanished and the somewhat disbelieving joy disappeared from his gaze. His hand was immediately retracted, and in less than a heartbeat, all the humanizing transformations were gone. He stood up and proceeded with the task of undressing; Narcissa tried to ignore the tingle of alarm in the pit of her stomach.

"What are you doing?" She asked loudly. The scathing look he gave her caused her to flush. "What I mean is, _why._ I'm pregnant, so we don't have to… _you _know. And if I have a boy, we'll never need to do it again." Her tone was bright at the prospect, and her husband gave her yet another of his long, unreadable looks. Without a word, he swept from the room.

Narcissa fell back onto her bed, delighted at the release from his presence. However, she knew she could no longer postpone thinking about the child that was not within her. Part of her wondered if she ought to hate it. She certainly hated its father enough, but was that really the child's fault? No. No, she decided, not at all. For the next nine months, while a tiny little being was forming inside of her, this wasn't even Lucius's child. It's was hers. If the baby relied solely on her for sustenance and life, it was going to be hers alone. She might legally be a possession of her husband's, but the little human was going to be all hers.

She rolled out of bed and padded across the room to her desk, and summoned parchment and ink with a flick of her wand.

_Bella,_

_I'm pregnant. I just found out today, as I've been checking each morning. You've no idea how I'm hoping for a son. Lucius seemed pleased too, perhaps he was getting impatient. I've already decided to love the baby, if not its father. I wonder if this is how impregnated rape victims feel, just knowing that there is an entirely innocent soul within them, untainted by their sire._

_I just though to write you and let you be the first to know. I'll tell Mum and Father next time I see them._

She wanted to write more, but decided to deal with it in the morning. She left the parchment and quill upon the desk, returned to her bed, and curled up to sleep, hand upon her stomach.

…

Narcissa pushed open the door to Abraxas's study, desperate for escape from preparations for the ceremony tomorrow. The whole house was swarming, and she figured that she would be better off out of the way. She wandered towards the bookshelves, opting for an unexplored corner. The books here had wide flat spines, and she drew one out to discover that it wasn't a book at all, but a photo album. Curious, she carried it over to a cozy seat she secretly thought of as her own, and flipped it open.

I only took her a moment to recognize Abraxas, not a day older than sixteen. He strongly resembled his son, but he was laughing. He stood in a group of similarly aged Slytherins, one arm flung over the shoulders of a young man with brown hair and black eyes, and the other arm curled around the waist of a tiny brunette. The other boy was embracing a tall blonde, and they were all jostling and chattering with one another. There were others on the outskirts, clearly wistful but utterly ignored by the close-knit group. She turned the page and again found Abraxas and the girl, curled up together on a settee in the Slytherin common room, making faces at the camera. Narcissa began to flip the pages, faster and faster, her heart pounding. In every single picture of Abraxas, the girl was there too, and they were happy, _so _obviously happy. She finished with that album and moved on to the next, but the first page held a photograph of Abraxas on his wedding day. Aethel looked breathtaking, if a bit uneasy, but Abraxas seemed perfectly at ease and content, smiling reassuringly whenever she nervously met his eye. A quick overview of all the other albums proved the brunette entirely absent. She's clearly vanished from his life after Hogwarts, and she knew Aethel had been chosen by his parents- but why? And why did he seem so happy with the wife he hadn't had a say in?

"Narcissa? I though I might find you in h-"

"Who is she?"

Abraxas paused, taken aback. "Of whom do you speak?"

"_Her._" She lifted the photographs and jabbed her finger at the picture. Abraxas glanced at it and smiled gently.

"Lovely, isn't she? That's Charlotte." His voice was warm when he spoke.

"Charlotte. But who…?"

"Charlotte and I were involved in our school days. It ended, of course, when my engagement to Aethel was announced."

"I thought you loved Aethel." Narcissa muttered softly. Abraxas looked taken aback.

"I do."

"But you loved Charlotte; I can tell."

"Of course I loved Charlotte. I still do."

Narcissa was entirely and obviously nonplussed.

"You seem confused, Narcissa. Does it shock you that I can love both of them? Women are odd in that way- believing that a person has only the capacity to care deeply for a single individual. I chose Charlotte, we had much in common and we shared a sense of humour, but Aethel is the mother of my children, wise and beautiful and has the ability to solve any problem she is faced with- how can I want one over the other? The idea of Charlotte upsets my wife very much and so I do not see her; I assume Charlotte's husband would be very perturbed by my presence in his wife's life as well. We exchange letters several times a year and no more, and I love her as I do Aethel. I feel no guilt; one does not suffer because of my feelings towards the other."

"But surely you wanted to marry Charlotte, to spend your life with her?"

"I knew Aethel when our betrothal was announced; we went to school together, although we weren't close. I knew she would make an excellent wife, and so I did not protest."

"Do you not miss Charlotte? Do you never regret…" Narcissa could not go on, and Abraxas noted her forlorn expression with a soft sigh.

"You are so lonely here, aren't you Narcissa? I realize you don't get on well with my daughters or wife, and my son has always been rather distant. You ought to have you sister visit more often, perhaps her new husband too?"

"I just…" She couldn't explain Rodtimer to him, it wouldn't be at all proper, even if he _was_ her only confidante.

"I understand it's still difficult for you here," He murmured sincerely, sitting down beside her. "But I should hope that you can become more comfortable and content here." He placed a reassuring hand upon her shoulder, and Narcissa turned, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I miss everyone; especially my parents, and my home, and just being _happy_!"

It felt wonderful to be held. Abraxas' tender hand gently patting her upper back reminded her of how her father would embrace her, efficiently erasing all of her worries with the security only a father could offer. She hadn't been comforted or cared for in the longest time.

"Abraxas, Lucius and I were wonder-" Aethel stopped abruptly. "Abraxas?" Her tone was alarmed, and Narcissa pulled away and looked over to see a horrorstruck Aethel in the doorway, her son behind her, grey eyes sharp and angry.


	14. Chapter 14

"All I did was hug the girl, Aethel. I've never heard you protest to me embracing Adina or Terentia or Beatrice."

"She isn't your daughter, Abraxas! She's Lucius's wife, and you have a closer relationship with her than he does! It isn't _right_!" Aethel cried, hating her husband's cool, unaffected manner.

"Narcissa is my daughter by law. She is a perfectly charming girl, and I do not understand why your feelings towards her have always been so hostile." He replied patiently.

"She isn't a good girl! She's sullen and miserable and drags about. Any other girl would have been ecstatic to marry our son. But she-"

"She's young and still believes she cannot move on."

"'Move on'? From _what?_"

"I dislike it when you raise your voice, Aethel," His tone was low, words cold. "Especially whence addressing me."

The paused, taking several deep breaths to calm herself. "Of course, husband. But-"

He held up a hand, cutting her off abruptly. "This discussion has ended."

…

Across the Manor, Narcissa was jarred from her fretful distraction by two knocks on her door, far sharper than usual.

"I have to ask." Lucius's tone was brusque, and he wouldn't meet her eye as he hovered in the doorway. "The child- is it mine?"

Narcissa couldn't speak with shock. Of all the tactless, thoughtless things he could have said to her regarding the situation he and his mother had walked in on, this was certainly the worst. _It was just a hug!_ Her mind screamed futilely, and her eyes narrowed with fury.

"And what if it isn't yours, Lucius?" She hissed. His eyes remained blank, but she saw his hands clenching and unclenching in his pockets. When he spoke, it was in an emotionless monotone.

"If it were my father's child, and male, then it would be named heir to the property. It would still be of direct Malfoy descent to the wife of the current heir. My name would, of course, be listed on the birth certificate, and the affair hidden from the public. You and your child and I would move from the Manor and to another Malfoy estate, probably to our French holdings. The child would be raised as my son, though everyone in the family would be well aware of the ruse." If she hadn't been quite so furious, she might have noticed the strain in his expression, or the slightly pained note in his voice.

Narcissa rose to her feet, eyes glittering dangerously as she glided across the floor towards him. "For your information, _Malfoy_," She spat. "This is your baby. Your father is a wonderful man, a good person, and reminds me of my own father, who I never get to see any more, because I'm stuck here! But I wish it weren't yours. People like you shouldn't have children, and you probably already have half a dozen scattered throughout the country by other whores that showed up at our wedding!"

He was silent for a moment. "They told you about Chelsea."

"Yes, your mother was _hardly _discreet about it. I don't want to be here anymore than I'm wanted here, but I will _not _have such hypocritical, disgusting accusations thrown at me by _you_!"

They were standing quite close now, and Narcissa could feel her face flushed with rage as she glared up as him.

"Now, get out of my room."

She was only a little surprised the he didn't fight back. He wasn't fond of confrontation, and evidently had no interest in arguing his stance. Still, she did not feel as though she had won anything; she felt as though she wasn't worth even disagreeing with. He didn't want to waste his time on something he cared so little about.

…

Narcissa could officially say she had ruined the wedding. Not to the guests- no, every individual fortunate enough to receive an invitation had attended and declared it the most spectacular wedding of the year, excluding her brother's, obviously, with no luxury spared for the oldest Malfoy daughter. Despite the false faces worn by the family, underneath the surface, tension boiled. She'd overheard Adina whispering ferociously to Terentia that 'That Black girl is a selfish little whore who only thinks of herself!' while her sister murmured in soft agreement. Adina's new husband, Thorfinn Rowle, seemed oblivious to the conflict. Narcissa was sure he was the tallest man she'd ever met, more then two and a third metres tall, broad at the shoulder and heavily muscled. He was decidedly dense, but appeared to be beyond delighted with his wife, smiling broadly whenever their eyes met, and touching her hand tenderly whenever the opportunity presented itself to do so. Adina did not give any one at the entire gathering so much as a kind look. At the end of the ceremony, Adina traveled Manchester with her new family, and the solemn Malfoys filed back to the Manor in stony silence.

…

Narcissa arrived promptly at the dining room for breakfast, not wishing to incite any further wrath. She took her place of dishonour across from Beatrice, and the others took their places as well. However, once everyone had settled, there was an evident problem: Adina's seat was empty. With a little half-smile, Terentia rose to take the spot of the highest ranking daughter on the opposite side of the table, but Abraxas lifted his hand to halt her movement.

"Narcissa, perhaps you should sit by your husband." He gestured casually to the empty seat beside Lucius.

Narcissa paled, not daring to look at the faces of the other Malfoys. Keeping her gaze focused on Abraxas' kind one, she rose and moved to the indicated chair. It wasn't as though she didn't appreciate the esteem he held her in to grant her the seat, but Narcissa knew the timing could have been better. The meal passed in utter silence, punctuated only by scraping silver on the plates. Abraxas rose when he was finished, indicating the others were permitted to begin their days as well.

"I'm to the Ministry today, love." Abraxas announced, giving his wife a peck on the cheek. "I'll see you this evening."

Aethel nodded but remained silent, and her husband swept from the room. Lucius exited next, leaving Narcissa alone with three hostile women.

"Terentia, Tricey, we'll read today in my study." She turned to go and Terentia followed, but Beatrice hesitated.

"Just a minute, Mum. I need to get a book from my room." She scampered off, and Narcissa was abandoned without instruction. With a heavy sigh, she turned to trudge back up to her room, though she would most certainly be criticized later for idleness.

She had just reached the top of the stairs when it happened. Believing she'd heard a noise below, Narcissa whirled on the spot to see who followed, but the landing was empty.

"_Expulso!"_ With the force of a brick wall smashing her from behind, Narcissa was launched forward and down the staircase, unconscious of the fact that she had screamed until she was harshly being told to 'shut up!'. The tumble down the stairs had her covered in bruises, but that wasn't what concerned her- it was the sharp, seizing pain in her lower back and womb that left her breathless in terror. Her head throbbed and back ached, but she knew immediately that something far worse was wrong.

She rolled over onto back with a low moan, to see Beatrice towering over her, face full of loathing.

"How _dare _you?" The girl hissed, looking murderous. "You think you understand so well, don't you? That you _suffer_ so much, living in such luxury? You are miserable because any thing you could every want is within your reach! You hate my brother because you think he _made _you marry him; as if he had any more choice than you did! He never tried to make you miserable!"

"Please," Narcissa whimpered, clutching at her abdomen, attempting in vain to will away the agonizing ripping there. Beatrice ignored her.

"I guess you don't know the real story of Chelsea then, do you? No, Lucius wouldn't tell my mother or Adina and certainly not Terentia- but he told me. He was ashamed of himself, embarrassed by what had happened. He thought he should have seen through the nasty little slut's plotting- and he likely would have too, if Terentia hadn't _begged_ him to take her dearest, smitten friend out and be nice to her. It was only meant to be a brief lunch, but Chelsea had adored him for so long, and she knew of his engagement to you, so she was desperate." Beatrice paused. "She put Amortentia in his drink. They left the restaurant in the middle of the meal, and by the time the potion wore off, it was too late. She was pregnant. He let everyone think he was just acting irresponsible and stupid the way boys his age do, but he's not so careless."

Narcissa's knees were drawn up, and tears were leaking silently from her eyes. She could barely hear the girl's words over the dull roar in her ears.

"I-"

"Beatrice?"

"Lucius!" Her tone changed instantly; it was suddenly overwhelming concerned. "She just fell! I'm so glad you're here- I startled her when she heard me behind her, and then she turned and tripped and she _fell_!" The panic was executed perfectly, and Narcissa began to sob loudly. This evil child was going to get away with it. It was her word against Narcissa's.

"_Liar_," Narcissa moaned, certain the words were to no avail. Lucius was leaning over her, but his hands froze at the sound of her voice. "She's lying," The words sounded weak, even to her own ears. "She pushed me." Their eyes met and she begged him to understand, trying to convince with silence where her body failed. He undoubtedly hated her right now- why should he trust her over his beloved little sister?

"Obviously she's delusional-"

"No!" Narcissa wailed, slumping in defeat.

"Beatrice," Lucius spoke slowly and quietly. "I think you should go."

Relief flooded her, and everything went black.


	15. Chapter 15

* * *

Voices. They were somewhere near by, low and rumbling. Men. Men were speaking. Beeping. Soft, but steady and unrelenting. Some sharp, sterile smell. It was unpleasant.

_Pain_. It flooded her suddenly and totally, and it was everywhere. She tried to move, but a particularly tender spot at the base of her skull kept her head immobile. A tiny moan escaped her lips. The voices ceased. Footsteps, crisp and swift, growing louder as they drew near. The deeper voice spoke again, far closer now.

"She just moved."

The tenor replied, polite and kind, but strained. "Mr. Malfoy, I don't think- I understand you're under a great amount stress, and obviously grieving, but she-"

"Narcissa, can you hear me?"

A tentative hand reached out to touch the one resting limply in the sheets. The fingers reached out eagerly.

"Mort?" she croaked pitifully. The hand was immediately retracted from her searching fingers.

Narcissa's eyes flickered open, and she glanced around blankly.

"Wherem'I?" she mumbled, nearly incoherent. The MediWizard smiled, surprised but evidently relieved.

"You are at St. Mungo's, Mrs. Malfoy. How are you feeling?"

"_Bad,_" she moaned emphathetically.

"Of course. You had quite a nasty accident."

Even in the disoriented haze, rage filled her. "It _wasn't _an accident!" The words were disappointingly weak, as she'd intended to shout them.

"I know. I know it wasn't, Narcissa." Lucius moved into her line of sight.

"You… do?"

He nodded tightly. "Yes."

"Then what…?"

"Beatrice is on her way now to Vila Nova de Gaia, in Portugal. She'll live with our grandparents until she's married. I understand that you wouldn't wish to… see her."

Narcissa's eyes widened, stunned. "You believed me?"

"Of course I did. Beatrice admitted to hexing you after it became clear innocence would not keep her in Wiltshire. Terentia wished to show support for her; she's en route to Portugal as well."

She was feeling better already. She rather hoped she didn't look _too_ pleased, especially not when Lucius looked so decidedly unwell. His usual icy paleness looked pallid, the ever-present dark shadows beneath his eyes seemed more defined than they normally did, and his immaculately tied hair had worked itself partially free and strands fell raggedly around his face.

She wriggled slightly into a semi-sitting position, freezing when Lucius reached out to help her. He let the hand fall away, and she forced herself upright with a soft groan.

"Why does it hurt so much when I-" she stopped suddenly, hand resting on her sore middle. "The baby. Is my baby alright?"

There was no reply. She looked desperately at the Healer, who was standing quietly in the corner of the room, overly involved in some charts, eyes averted. Her head snapped quickly to Lucius, whose gaze was on the mattress upon which she lay.

"They tried their best." The words were slow, forced out with difficulty. "It wasn't enough. The baby… it's gone."

For a moment, she didn't breathe. She wasn't conscious of the fact she was shaking, only Lucius's words, echoing over and over in her head. _Gone. Gone._ She was only dimly aware of the fact he had continued talking.

"…Said there was minimal damage to you, and it should only be slightly more difficult for you to conceive again, but to wait about a month before attempting- are you alright?"

Her teeth were chattering, and her eyes had a far-off look in them. _"My baby,_" she whispered, trying to ignore the aching emptiness that seemed to be growing inside of her. For the third time since she'd woken, he reached out to her, this time to offer sympathy.

Narcissa snapped.

"Stop touching me!" She cried, jerking violently away, hardly aware of the pain the sudden movement caused. "Just stop it! I hate it when you touch me!"

He seemed taken aback, and when he replied, his voice was infuriatingly controlled. "I understand you're upset; our child-"

"No! Not our child, _my _child! My baby didn't mean anything to you other than an heir, you insensate monster, and it wasn't to be _our _child until it was born! I'd decided to love it anyway, even if you were the father, I didn't care, because when it was inside of me it was my baby, not ours! And your bloody sister took that away from me, because obviously I wasn't miserable enough living with you!"

There was silence for a moment. "I'm sorry you feel that way," Lucius began, but Narcissa cut him off once more.

"You're not, so don't lie! You aren't sorry about anything, ever!"

Lucius didn't attempt to respond. He rose silently and exited the room swiftly, not turning to glance back once. _Probably bored of my complaints,_ she thought bitterly.

"Erm, Mrs. Malfoy?" She looked up quickly; she'd forgotten the Healer was still in the room.

"Oh. Hello." Narcissa replied dully.

"I-ahm, I'm sure it isn't my place, but your husband seemed rather distraught the entire time you were incapacitated."

"Of course he did; if I died, he'd have to go through the troublesome process of interviewing women for a new wife." She settled herself down and closed her eyes. "I'm rather tired," she announced needlessly.

"I'll just let you be then," the Healer murmured, ducking from the room.

…

When she returned home, several days later, the house was alarmingly still. It didn't usually bustle, not even close, but she hated the absolute stillness.

"Is your father in?"

"No. He isn't." Lucius frowned slightly, but Narcissa continued to press him.

"Will he be back soon?"

"No. He and my mother decided that they would rather live with the girls for now."

Narcissa stared at him, aghast. "You mean we've got to live here _alone_?"

"Most married people do." Irritation was creeping into his voice.

"Well, most married people actually like the person they're married to," she muttered under her breath, not really intending him to her, but not caring that he obviously did by the glare she received. "Can I have Bella come stay here for a weekend?"

"Of course. I'll be in my study if you need anything."

"But it's Monday- don't you have to go to work?"

"I work from home, Narcissa." He sounded a bit exasperated. "As I've worked since we've been wed."

"Really?" She hardly cared that he was home each day when she thought he was not, but supposed that explained how he'd found her after Beatrice had pushed her. "Well, that's nice. I'm going to go write to Bella now." Finish writing, actually, she amended silently, remembering the half finished letter in her bedroom. Although- she took a steadying breath- that letter's contents were no longer pertinent, as she was no longer pregnant.

"Are you alright?" He'd obviously noticed the deep, trembling inhalation.

"Fine," she replied curtly, striding of before he could see the pain in her eyes. But when she got to the desk in her room, the letter wasn't there. Confused, she looked around, and found it lying on the floor, slightly creased.

_Clumsy elves,_ her mind offered in explanation, and she hardly gave it a second thought as she tossed the paper in the small trash bin.

…

"Cissy! Nar_ciss_a! Ah, there you are- Roddy, you can probably give those to the elves."

"Could you fucking _pack_ anymore?" Rodolphus grunted irritably, heaving the trunks into the room. "We're here for two bloody _days_, not weeks!"

"Language, darling, when we're in the company of others. Cissy, how are you? Where's Malfoy?" Bellatrix grinned, embracing her younger sister and patting her hair.

"Oh, he's around somewhere… Rodolphus, she's right, Finny will take those up to the guest room. Bella, you look wonderful." Narcissa watched her glowing sister enviously. Bellatrix spun, laughing brightly.

"You flatter me, really Cissy."

"Yeah, you do- I told her just this morning she was getting fat." Rodolphus called obnoxiously. Bellatrix shot him a murderous glare, and he grinned. "You know I'm only teasing, love," He took her by the waist and kissed her. "You are, without question, the most beautiful woman I've ever met."

Bellatrix kissed him back, and Narcissa cleared her throat uncomfortably. With a giggle, Bella pulled away.

"My baby sister, go find your husband, won't you?"

Narcissa nodded in agreement, ducking from the room, hearing Rodolphus say, strangely,

"How long d'you think we've got?"

"Three minutes, tops."

"That's enough time for me."

Narcissa moved away as Bellatrix responded with something that sounded like 'selfish pig' but perhaps wasn't. They'd begun kissing again, causing the words to become rather muddled. She'd never been in Lucius' study before, but knew it was beside her private little room. The door was closed when she arrived, so she knocked briskly.

"Yes?" The door opened, and Lucius appeared.

"Bella and Rodolphus are here."

Something from his expression led her to believe he was less than excited by this news. "Indeed. I'll be there… shortly."

"They're waiting _now._" Best to get him involved in some conversation or another as soon as possible, so she could have Bella all to her self.

"Very well then." He followed her through the corridors, but when they reached the room where the newlyweds had been left, Lucius stopped her.

"Is there a problem?"

"Wait here." Lucius growled, stalking forward. Narcissa frowned, more confused by the odd noises coming from other room than strange behaviour of her husband.

"Bellatrix! Rodolphus!" His sharp tone caused Narcissa, still in the corridor, to jump slightly. "Have some _dignity_!"

"Oh _c'mon_ Malfoy," Bella's whine was breathy.

"You are acting like hormone driven teenagers. It's revolting. Get off my table and wait a few hours until you can go to bed and do whatever the hell you'd like. Lestrange, _stop _that!" There was a bang and Rodolphus swore loudly, and Bellatrix moaned in protest. "Now, do you think you can behave like civilized adults, or do I need to separate you two for the rest of the day?" His tone was sneering.

"You know Malfoy, I'll bet you're really boring in-"

"My house, Bellatrix, my rules," he interrupted loudly.

Narcissa stood in the hall, mildly horrified. It was, after all, her sister in there. She strode in once certain the scene was all but finished; Bellatrix still sulked, and Rodolphus stood half behind his wife, hands jammed firmly in his pockets and he slouched in a peculiar way. The expression on his face was one of intense discomfort, and he shot Lucius frequent looks of loathing.

"Bella, I'm sure the men have catching up to do- won't you come sit outside? It's a lovely day."

For most of the afternoon, Bellatrix bubbled on about her marriage. It was impossible to listen without envy to the sheer joy in her usually-bitter sister's voice. Eventually, though, she steered the conversation to Narcissa's own relationship.

"Are you and Malfoy getting on any better, then?" she asked, sipping her tea.

"No," Narcissa sighed, "and I doubt we ever will."

"I'm sure it can't be that bad-"

"It _can!_" It came out in a rush- the miserable nights, her pregnancy, Beatrice's attack; _everything. _At the end, Bellatrix was silent for a moment.

"Well..." she said slowly at last, "we're going to have to do something about this, aren't we?" The rhetorical question was distinctly threatening.

* * *


	16. Chapter 16

"_Malfoy!_" Bellatrix had waited impatiently until her sister had fallen asleep, and burst unceremoniously into Lucius's study. "What the hell d'you think you're doing?"

"I _thought_ I was replying to a letter from the minister- but perhaps I am mistaken and somehow caused you grievous offence?"

"_Crucio!_" she shouted, raising her wand. Lucius's initial yell of pained surprise was instantly stifled, and Bella watched with glittering eyes as he pressed his lips together, expression crumpled and and tightened in agony. However, she couldn't have him hazy- regretfully, she lifted the curse. For a moment he couldn't speak, gasping quick gulps of air as he fought to regain his composure.

"What the _he-_"

"_Silencio!_ You're lucky I haven't killed you yet, so don't start with me! I may yet change my mind. Did you really think you could get away with it? My _baby sister,_ and you thought I wouldn't hear about it? That I wouldn't care? _Crucio!_" she cried. His back arched as he tried in vain to twist away from the spell, and Bellatrix laughed before raising to curse once more. "Now," she continued, placing her hands on her hips. "I don't want to hear you pathetic explana-" Her words were cut short as Lucius sprang up, drawing his own wand to immobilize her. He lifted the silencing charm as well, and stalked towards her.

"You will _never_ raise your wand to me again, least of all in my home," he snarled, eyes shining with menace. "My marriage is none of your concern, and if you attempt to interfere again, I'm afraid I will be unable to permit you back on the Manor premise. As it is, I believe you have over stayed your welcome."

"I'm here on my sister's invitation, not yours, and I'll be here as long as she wants me."

"Your sister invited you with my permission, to _my_ home. And due to your uncivilized behaviour, I am revoking my assent."

"You married her; doesn't that make it hers too?"

"No. Get out."

"This is a side of you I've never seen Malfoy. You really _are_ awful. Pity, I used to think you were kind of fun. My poor little Cissy." She shook her head in exagerated sorrow, but there was real anger behind the words. "Do you not feel guilty at all? Making her so bloody miserable?"

"_Out_, Bellatrix!"

* * *

Narcissa woke up the next morning, eagerly anticipating the day for the first time in ages. But when she went down to the dining room, she found only her husband present.

"Are Bella and Rodolphus sleeping in?" she asked as she slid into her seat.

"No. They returned to their home."

"_What?_" Her fork clattered to the plate. "She left? When?"

"Last night. I asked her to go."

"Why? You had no right-"

"I believe I had every right to ask her to leave _my _home," he interrupted coldly. "She over stepped her boundaries, and perhaps when she has learned to behave like a civilzed human being, I will allow her to return." He continued eating, seemingly unperturbed by Narcissa's glare of utter loathing.

"That's my _sister_ you're talking about," she spat. He didn't reply. "Every little thing that might make me happy at all, you just have to ruin it, don't you?" Still, he said nothing. "What, used up your quota of words for the day?"

"I assumed that question was rhetorical."

"It was, but you still could have said something."

The stony silence continued for the rest of the week, into the next month, and beyond that. Narcissa liked to tell herself it didn't bother her; she had things to keep her occupied. She was in charge of running the Manor now that Mrs. Malfoy had left, and telling the elves what to do and buy, inspecting their work, shopping whenever confinement became too oppressive.

On the day of their anniversary, she couldn't handle it anymore.

_A year._ Three hundred and sixty five days she had been married, and somehow, it felt like an eternity. The time spent with Mort, her _happiness_, seemed to exist a lifetime ago.

She curled up beside the window. It was raining, fitting in a way that seemed comforting. It made her feel as though her tears had company.

"Narcissa?" A soft knocking interrupted her musings.

"What?" It came out more sharply than she'd intended it too, but the door opened anyway.

"Are you alright? You..." he paused, "didn't come down for breakfast." Lucius took a tentative step into her room, her sanctuary that he had not invaded since she'd lost the baby.

"I'm fine." If she made her voice unfeeling, he might not hear her crying. He moved closer, steps slow but deliberate.

"Perhaps we should... talk." In his voice, it sounded like a foreign concept to her.

"There's nothing to say," she replied quietly, still staring outside. He didn't speak for a moment, but when she felt his touch upon her shoulder, her head snapped around so she could glare at him. The hand was immediately retracted, and she thought she saw him shove something in his pocket.

"Very well," he murmured, turning and walking briskly from the room.

It was some months later the next time he came into her room. This time, she had just settled into bed, and felt a stab of horror when he knocked, three times, and opened the door.

"What it?" she demanded, knowing the answer perfectly well. He knew this, and didn't reply as he closed the door behind him. "Really, Lucius," she said quickly, clutching the sheets more tightly against her, "I don't think it's a good time. The Healer said we should wait before trying again."

"He said wait a month. It's been ten times that."

"I-I don't think I'm ready."

"I know nothing will ever replace the baby we lost," Lucius began.

"You mean _I _lost," she corrected bitterly under her breath.

"Narcissa," he sighed; quiet and restrained.

"You know..." she paused, twisting the blanket covering her, unsure of how to broach the subject she wished to discuss. She had the very distinct feeling he would not appreciate her side of the arguement she meant to present.

"Yes?" he prompted.

"There..." She forced the words out in a rush. "There are things that can be done, by Healers and other trained professionals, things that could guarantee a boy, an heir for you, on the first try, things that wouldn't require us sleeping together. Quick, painless treaments. The Healer said it would be more difficult for me to concieve again, and I don't think we should waste time trying." She spoke the entire speech to her lap, and glanced up nervously at the end to gauge his reaction.

His face was a perfect, still mask, eyes carefully guarded and staring beyond her shoulder. There was a funny tightness about his mouth that she couldn't identify the meaning of, but maybe, she told herself, it was just the way his mouth was, and she'd never noticed before. In fact, he seemed to be taking it better than she'd hoped- she just wished he would say something. It had been almost a full minute.

"Lucius?"

He exhaled sharply, eyes sliding shut. He stood abruptly, and strode quickly out the door. After a moment, she heard his door slam from down the hall.

* * *

(A/N: So I only got eight reviews last chapter, which kinda made me sad. And, as one reviewer pointed out, I've been updating my Twilight stories more than this- I've just been having so much fun with a new fandom! And if you guys wanted to check those out too, I'd LOVE that. But that doesn't mean I've forgotten this one, no worries! Although, i WOULD appreciate a bit more input on the direction this story is going... (BLATANT REVIEW BEG) :D )


	17. Chapter 17

He did not knock. He did not even hesitate when he entered, awaiting her grudging approval as he had in the past. He crossed the room swiftly, and was in bed before Narcissa could react.

It had long ago ceased to be painful when he took her, but she winced now, his evident hurry outweighing his past desire to be gentle. It was not passion- no, she doubted he was capable of such a thing. It was simply as though he wished to get it over with as soon as possible- he wouldn't even look at her.

When it was over, he left as rapidly as he entered, and dispite her irritation and discomfort, she noticed an odd expression on his face, one that might have been shame in anyone else, but on Lucius Malfoy's emotionless countenance, she couldn't place it.

This pattern continued thrice weekly with the exception of her monthly bleeding, during which he was blissfully absent without being told a word. Narcissa began frequenting apothecaries, purchasing any potion that promised to assist her in conceiving.

Still, months passed without any sign of a baby. Narcissa became, if at all possible, even more bitter towards her husband, refusing to eat meals with him, waiting until she was certain he'd left for work before going down to breakfast, and eating supper before he returned home to avoid sitting with him. She instructed the elves during the daytime, and retired as soon as she heard his footsteps coming down the main hallway (somehow, she always missed the front door opening). She did not see him at all, except for nights. Still, this was far too often, and she tried to be in the shower whenever he came to visit, for occasionally this would cause him to leave her alone.

When Narcissa found out, at long last, that she was pregnant again, she could have wept for joy. And this time, she resolved, nothing would go wrong. She went to St. Mungo's immediately for potions to enhance the health of the unborn child, and had the elves cook only meals that would be good for the infant. For the first time in her life, she even began to exercise- something that had been previously unnecessary, as she'd always been tiny in physique. But she took steady jogs- which became brisk walks as the pregnancy progressed, and finally lumbering strolls- around the Manor grounds, appreciating for the first time how beautiful the gardens were. She thought, after the baby was born, she might plant some roses in the back, or have a fountain put in- maybe a hedged play area for her little one. The thought made her smile- a tiny blonde child toddling around, chasing butterflies and seeing shapes in the clouds.

During the sixth week, Narcissa went into the prenatal department of St. Mungo's for one of her many precautionary appointments, all smiles and laughter. Her doctor, however, frowned.

"Mrs. Malfoy..." she began, gazing intendly at an image magically depicting Narcissa's womb and infant. Her tone was uncertain and somewhat grave- Narcissa felt a bolt of fear.

"Yes?" she tried to reply in a strong voice, but it came out somewhat choked.

"There seems to be something we haven't detected before- likely caused by your fall and previous miscarriage- but it's hard to say for sure. I should do more tests."

* * *

That evening, Narcissa lay perfectly still on her bed, attempting in vain to fend off panic. Her hands protectively cradled her still-flat midsection, and she stared determindly at the ceiling far above. An elf appeared nervously near the door.

"Does mistress need anything?"

"No."

"Is mistress alright?"

"Fine. Go away."

It vanished promptly, and less than a minute later, there was a gentle knocking.

"Yes?" she called, irritated. Her nerves were already streched taut- she wasn't sure she could deal with her husband at the moment. Lucius took several steps into the room and then paused, evidently uncertain. Narcissa resisted the childish urge to roll over and face the opposite wall, instead staring with detached impatience until he spoke.

"You went to St. Mungo's today?"

"I did," she confirmed, but offered no more.

"And?"

"I'm _fine,_ Lucius," she snapped, hating the bitter taste of his name in her mouth, "but I'm tired-"

"And lying. What did they say?" he demanded, tone bordering on imperious. "I'm not imagining this, the elf said-"

"You sent and elf," she cried, "to spy on me?" Because she had no interest in sitting upright, she mere gave him a glare that conveyed all the loathing she could muster.

"Well, if you won't speak to anyone or any_thing_ about it, I could just owl the hospital and have a copy of your records sent here. However, I had hoped you would be more agreeable about it."

"It's your damned sister's fault, Lucius! The fall somehow messed up my womb- they think if I'm careful and do everything right, I _might_ carry the baby full term, but they recommended that I didn't, because there's a sixty percent chance that I'll die in delivery! They said I should never have tried to get pregnant again, and that their initial assesment was wrong, and the only reason I concieved anyway was all the fertility potions I was taking, and that it was a mistake! That I'm more likely then not to die because of this! They offered to abort the embryo then and there, but I told them no! And do you know why? Because I'd rather die having this baby than spend the rest of my life alone here with you!"

His face was set in his usual mask, but his eyes were uncharacteristically stricken. "Narcissa," he began, all hint of his stern tone gone.

"Just get out, won't you?"

* * *

The next morning, when Narcissa crept downstairs for breakfast, she was quite alarmed to find Lucius sitting at the table, the Daily Prophet spread out beside his apparently untouched plate.

"Shouldn't you be working?" she demanded, eyes narrowed in suspicion as she took her seat.

"It can wait. Since you've begun dining later, I suppose I can adjust my schedule in order to accompany you."

"You _really _don't have to," she snapped. He didn't reply; instead, he lifted an apple and leaned back in his chair, watching her with unvieled curiousity as he took a bite. She shifted uncomfortably. "What is it?" Narcissa demanded, lifting her fork tentatively to spear a piece of the assorted fruit before her.

"Nothing." He took another chunk of apple out, chewing thoughtfully.

"Don't you have somewhere you need to _be_?" she reiterated.

"Not until I choose to go," he responded quietly.

When she was done, he stood and left silently. Narcissa didn't understand his odd behaviour, but nearly groaned aloud when she went into the dining room once more for lunch, only to finding him waiting peacefully.

"I thought you were at work!"

"I do have a lunch hour," he explained patiently. "And I've used up," here he checked his watch, "approximately seven minutes of that. Please, sit."

With undisguised anger, she obeyed, stabbing at her food with all the petulance of a child.

"Are you... feeling alright?" he asked carefully. She nodded stiffly, and they passed the rest of meal in silence.

He was there at supper and she was no less irritated, but remained quiet. She hoped he would get tired of it, but he didn't- he appeared at every meal, every day, without fail. As she had everything else, Narcissa learned to endure it, although offered no feigned enthusiasm.

She still went on her walks, but with utmost care- a simple misstep could be fatal for her growing baby. Her every movement was calculated, and by the end of the day, she was so exausted and tense that she simply collapsed into bed.

Still, her stomach grew, expanding little by little. Towards the end of her fifth month, it became impossible to cram into even her loosest garments, and Narcissa headed to Diagon Alley for a bit of overdue shopping.

She loved the freedom- the carefree wandering and window shopping, and just the _tiniest _thrill of knowing she could easily purchase anything she desired. It was wonderful to see people, and hear bright, chattering voices- _laughter. _It was almost a foreign sound now, and the thought scared her a bit. The only thing she wished was that she wasn't totally alone; an assisting house elf was hardly good company.

"Narcissa? Is that really you?"

She whirled around, and for a moment, didn't recognise him. Then, Rebastan's bright, boyish grin lit up his face, and she gave a delighted cry of surprise.

"'Bastan! Oh, look at you!" she cried, throwing her arms around him then drawing away to do exactly that. He'd lost weight, but not in an unhealty way- in fact, he seemed to be glowing. He'd always been rather pudgy and pale, but was now not only thinner, but leanly muscled and looking as if he'd spent time in the sun. His inherently handsome facial structure was now noticable as well- the clear, strong jaw and high cheekbones. His dark eyes shone, and his pure, Lestrange blood was more evident than it had ever been during their years of schooling.

"How are you, Cissy?" he asked warmly, looking over her as well. "Merlin, Narcissa, you're not-?"

"Pregnant? Yes," she confirmed, and he laughed, placing a gentle hand over her belly.

"Amazing. So you're well, then?" She permitted the assumtion, and he continued. "Who would have thought it? I've bought my own place in Hertford- of course, Roddy's inherited all the ancestral grounds, but I've got a fair share of funds as well. And I-" he paused, face flushing with pride, voice lowering to whisper, "I've started seeing someone. She- she's just wonderful. Beautiful and smart, too. I can hardly believe it. I mean, would you ever have guessed it?"

"I always told you that you deserved the very best, didn't I?" And she had, every single time he'd been turned down by some girl or another. Not once in all their years at Hogwarts had he been able to persuade a girl to accompany him to Hogsmeade, and while he'd never begrudged his two best friends their bliss, they had both known how lonely he occasionally was. The three of them had done almost everything together, but there were undoubtedly times when Rebastan had been excluded.

"Tell me all about her," Narcissa began, taking his arm and leading them over to a bench. "Do I know her?"

"I don't think so; her name is Lysandra, and she went to Beauxbatons. But her family isn't French. I- I know I haven't known her for terribly long, but Narcissa, I truely believe that I'm going to marry her."

"That's wonderful! I would love to meet her sometime," she told him earnestly.

"You certainly will. So are things going better with Malfoy then?"

Her first impulse was to lie. To chirp 'Oh yes, most fabulously!' However, she'd known Rebastan far too long for such meager trickery to be effective. And besides, she'd already paused for too much time.

"It's not great, to be honest. But I'm learning to deal with it- living for days like this when I can get out of the house. And the baby-" she stopped. She wouldn't tell him about the risks of her pregnancy, not now when he was so happy. She couldn't ruin that, or even taint it. "The baby is a joy, too, even if I'm not fond of it's father." Narcissa took a deep, steadying breath, and asked in a too-casual voice, "And what of Rodtimer? Have you seen him lately?"

Immediately, Rebastan grimaced, and she felt a clench of dread in her gut. "What?" she demanded, "What is it?"

"He's not... well, Narcissa. Still. He hasn't begun to recover- hasn't even tried, really. He hasn't moved out of his parent's home, and he... he drinks, quite often. I don't see him anymore, for the most part. He can't get over the past, not even to the point of functioning."

Narcissa bit her lip and averted her gaze, blinking hard. "Look at us," she whispered, "Who would have thought it?"

* * *

That night, Narcissa dreamt.

The dream was surprisingly realistic- she was pregnant and lying in bed, just as in reality. But she was _happy_. Joyful, in fact, because Rodtimer was beside her, smiling in his warm, reassuring way, and stroking her swollen midsection. He loved her, and loved their child. _Their _child_._ A little boy, with dark blue eyes and thick black hair, who had been concieved with love into a pregnancy that was free of danger.

His hand on her was so solid, so present, she raised her own hand to place over his, lacing their fingers as she guided him to where the child was kicking gently, in happy response and acknowledgement of his father. Mort squeezed her hand tenderly, and she turned her face upwards to gaze at him.

And then, somehow, the sequence ended, because suddenly she was back in the Malfoy Manor, and the glow was gone. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Narcissa realised that the touch upon her abdomen was still very much in existence, but it was not Rodtimer Yaxley she clung to.

"You!" she hissed in disgust, jerking her hand out of Lucius's and shoving his arm away. "What are you doing in here? Won't you just leave me alone?"

"I-" he began, but seemed to decide better. He rose swiftly, and strode from the room. Shuddering, Narcissa rolled over and fell back asleep.


	18. Chapter 18

_"'And death, as the sole means of reviving love for herself in his heart, of punishing him, and of gaining the victory in that contest which an evil spirit in her heart was waging against him-'" _Narcissa read in a clear, gentle tone to her enormous middle. It was rather late, but she couldn't sleep. Pillows propped her into an almost-comfortable position, and she was curled beneath a silky comforter in the dim light of her bedroom.

"You know," she murmured, stroking her belly, "this is my very favourite book. I fully expect you to read it when you get big enough. Mipsie," she called for her elf, "a glass of water, please, no ice." She wished she could take a sleeping potion, but would do nothing to risk the integrity of her baby. Her baby- due any day now. Most expectant mothers were exuberant and eager; she was too, to some degree. But she knew, also, that there was a very real chance she would never get to see this child. And she was terrified.

"Where was I?" she mumbled, eyes searching the page. "Oh, yes. '_-Presented itself clearly and vividly to her.'_" With a soft snap, Narcissa closed the book and placed it on her nightstand. "We'll finish the rest tomorrow, shall we, dearest?" she whispered soothingly, glancing at the clock. Three hours past midnight, and still she was awake. With a soft groan, she eased herself back, and her little one kicked displeasedly. "Did I wake you, love?" she crooned, "I'm sorry-" she paused, eyes darting to the door. "Lucius?" It had been open for just a split second, but her suspicions were confirmed as the door swung back open and her husband stood, almost guiltily, in it's frame.

"Did you need something?" she asked, only slightly impatient.

"No," he answered abruptly. "I didn't disturb you, did I?"

"I was already awake. What did you want?"

"Nothing," he repeated, turning to go.

"Lucius!" he stopped at her irriate call. "Obviously, you had a reason for getting up in the middle of the night and coming to my room. Tell me. Please," she added as an afterthought.

"I..." he frowned, crossed his arms over his chest, and showed little sign of continuing. Narcissa pursed her lips, waiting. "I suppose just out of habit." Immediately, he seemed to regret his words, and took a step back towards his own bedchamber.

"Wait!" she called again. Once more, he paused. "What d'you mean, 'habit'?"

He exhaled sharply, and replied in clipped tones, "Since you've informed me of the risks in this pregnancy, I've made a point to ascertain that you..." he paused, then tried again. "That is to say, you obviously were in a more suseptible state while sleeping, and house elves can be unreliable, so I felt it might be necessary, or at least potentially preventative in the circumstance that any difficulty might arrise involving our only possible biological heir, that I should inquire into your continued well-being, preferably without disrupting your rest."

She blinked at him, nonplussed. "You've been checking on me at night while I'm sleeping?"

"Er... yes."

"Oh. Well, while you're already in here, will you help me up? I have to us the bathroom." With a heavy sigh, she shook her head. "Again." Narcissa held up her hands. Lucius moved swiftly across the room and lifted her carefully, taking her right hand in his left, and supporting her lower back with the other. With her left hand, Narcissa gripped his shoulder, and Lucius carefully eased her from the mattress.

"Is that-"

Suddenly, Narcissa gasped, eyes widening.

"Narcissa?" he sounded panicked. "Are you alright?"

"No!" she cried as she straightened up. "I need a washcloth and new clothes and I need to get the St. Mungo's! My water just broke!"

She wasn't certain how she'd expected him to act, but certainly not with the brief, sudden efficiency that he responded with. "Mipsie," the elf appeared quickly. "Get your mistress something else to wear and help her clean up. Dobby," a second elf materialized. "Prepare a carriage. You know which of the thestrals will get us to London the fastest and most smoothly. Go!"

Narcissa had been unable to apparate since conception- it was risky in even the most mundane pregnancy. Too often, children would be unintentionally splinched from their mother's womb, with horrifying results. Flooing was dangerous also, due to the bumbs and bangs frequently recieved, even by experienced travelers. They had to arrive by less convienient means.

* * *

When they at last stopped at St. Mungo's, Lucius carefully escorted her through the entrance, commanding a wheelchair be brought, and telling the nurse to locate and summon the specialized Healers they'd arranged to have present during the labor. He demanded that she be taken to the reserved suite and personally saw to it that she was settled and properly attended to.

"Is there anything else? Should I owl your mother or sister or... anyone?"

_Mort. _"No, nobody. Thank you. You can-" she paused, lips pressing together and an odd expression taking over her face. It dawned on him that she must be having a contraction. "-you can go now."

His brow creased slightly. "'Go?'"

"Yes, wait outside. I'd feel more comfortable if you weren't in here."

He hesitated. His lips were pressed together as though to physically hold in something fighting to be voiced- he swallowed once, as if to retract the unspoken words. Still, his efforts were unsucessful.

"Narcissa," the words were very quiet, very restrained. "In the best of circumstances," he began slowly, "this will be difficult. Dangerous. Perhaps it would be better if I stayed with you." The words were so low, she could scarcely hear him.

"No, I don't think so. Really, I feel you should leave."

* * *

Nurse Becca Bourke was dashing frantically about. She had been told by her superiors that this was an important case, that these were important people, that the mother had insisted on keeping the child despite grievous personal risk. Becca had been assigned the task of running- since there could be no apparation inside the building, she was essentially the errand girl- dashing about for important things, such as Soothing potions, or less significant items, such as coffee for the doctors. At the moment, she was retrieving another pillow. However, as she dashed out of the delivery room once more (the Expensive one, one she'd never actually seen in use before today), she noticed something fairly odd that, in her hurry, she hadn't noted before. A man was sitting in one of the comfortable seats in the private waiting area. He was handsome and blonde, but his unusually elegant face was turned downward into a stressed scowl. His elbows rested on his knees, and his pointed chin sat on tightly woven hands. The woman (presumably his wife) cried out, and his eyes snapped to the doorway, and his whole body seemed to tense and lean towards the noise, though she didn't think he'd moved a muscle. A moan of pain followed, and his jaw clenched. As Becca hurried along, she mentally scrolled through all the people at the laboring woman's bed side. Numerous Mediwizards and witches, to be sure, but family? Loved ones? She didn't recall seeing any.

As she returned with the pillow, she considered pausing to share a word of sympathy, but something about him didn't seem to invite strangers. She pitied him, though, and wished there was something she could do.

Becca supposed, as she handed over the cushion she held, that this woman must have been beautiful. But her long blonde was sweat soaked and tangled from the hours she'd been suffering, her fair skin was reddened, and her face was twisted into a haunting countenance of agony.

It was dangerous to use magic during delivery, and often did more harm than good in such a delicate state. In this matter, they were no more advanced than Muggles. There was little to be done that could ease the poor lady's suffering.

"Mort-" Becca turned as she choked out a single word. "Please," she turned begging eyes to a nearby assistant. "I'm dying. I know it. I want Mort!"

Mort! A name! "I'll get him!" Becca called happily, glad to ease both of their pain. She hurried back to the waiting area. "Mort?" His eyes lifted at the sound of her voice, and she pressed on. "She keeps asking for you, Mort. She's quite frightened, I'm afraid, but she's asking for you."

He rose slowly, with none of the eagerness she'd anticipated. In fact, he looked positively distraught. And instead of moving towards where his wife lay, he turned instead towards the exit.

"Mort?" she asked, confused.

"My name," he muttered, not turning to look at her as his hand rested on the doorknob, "is Lucius."

* * *

It hadn't been hard to track him down. Lucius had more than ample connections to get whatever he damn well pleased; a mere person presented no difficulty. He was in a region of Diagon Alley Lucius himself had never had any desire to frequent; snidely, he thought that any pureblood man that wished to present a repectable face to society should have no business there. Trips to Knockturn Alley were preferable to _this _slum. Nothing but crass, filthy pubs and cheap whores here- Lucius' lip curled in distain as a young, large toothed girl layered in make-up attempted to snare his attention. He brushed past her and ducked into the dingy doorway of a squat edifice. The windows were too caked with dust to discern anything within, and when Lucius pushed door open, it stuck, whining abrasively as he forced it wide enough to slip through. A grimy bell rang wearily to announce his presence, but at five in the morning, there were only three occupants anyway. A creature Lucius strongly suspected to be a hag was lazily wiping down the counter and scarcely offered him a glance, and a round-bellied many with a white pouf of facial hair nodded drunkenly from the bar as he passed. On the far end of the counter, a man sat hunched beneath a black cloak. His fingers were laced around a large, nearly empty tumbler. It was he that Lucius approached with caution.

"Rodtimer Yaxley?"

He turned slowly. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and his handsome face was wasted and unshaven, making it seem unpleasantly elongated. He was clearly and incredibly inebriated.

It took him a moment to realized whom his interrupter was, but his eyes suddenly widened, and his lips drew into a snarl.

"_Malfoy._"

Lucis probably could have avoided the blow, but he was intending on securing this man's agreement- it was probably better to permit one punch. He staggered back slightly but quickly regained his balance, wiping blood from his nose.

"I should fucking kill you, you sick bastard. You've got know idea how happy that would make me-" Too far gone for articulation, he drew back his arm once more, but this time, Lucius grabbled his wrist and, with a sharp jerk, twisted his around and pressed the other man's face to the sticky counter.

"There isn't much time," he announced shortly. "And you need to be cooperative." Lucius' tone was quite calm, even as Rodtimer thrashed inneffectively against his hold.

"We're going to go the the apothecary and get you a sobering potion, firstly. Once you've regained control of yourself, I'll explain the situation."

"I don't _want_ to be sober, you moron!" he bellowed. "It _hurts_ too much when I'm sober, and that's all your fucking fault!"

"I won't let her see you like this," Lucius murmured, eyes narrowed icily. "It will just upset her more."

At last, Yaxley's struggles ceased. "Narcissa?" he whispered, almost reverently.

"She... she may be dying."

Rodtimer stiffened and his eyes widened. For a moment, he seemed unable to breathe. "Cissy?" he gasped. "Wh-" his expression hardened, but the agony was still apparent there. "What did you do to her?"

Lucius's jaw tightened, and he did not deny the accusation. "We need to hurry," he repeated.

* * *

When they arrived back at St. Mungo's, Rodtimer was sober, clean-shaven, well dressed, and clear-headed for the first time in a long time. He was also beside himself.

"Which floor is she on? Why won't you tell me what's wrong with her? She might be fine, right?"

Lucius ignored his buzzing questions, leading him silently through the building until they reached the birthing ward. At last, Yaxley's endless queries ceased.

"Malfoy?"

"In here," Lucius growled, seizing the other man's arm and shoving him forward. "Just go."

"I-" he stopped abruptly as a pained cry sounded from nearby. "Narcissa," he murmured distractedly, moving towards the noise, seeming to forget Lucius was even there.

His paces quickened and he brushed past the curtain just inside the doorway. There were nurses and Healers buzzing around, but Rodtimer scarcely saw them. "Narcissa," he breathed, but the word caught in the back of his throat. _She's dying._ But she couldn't be! Not his Cissy, not his beautiful, sparkling Cissy. He stumbled to her side, and touched her cheek tenderly. "Love?" he whispered. Her eyes slowly unscrewed, flickering open and finding his face after a moment.

"Oh!" she gasped, a flash of eleation swallowed quickly by pain. "Ooh," she moaned, eyes closing once more. "Oh, I've died, haven't I?" she whimpered, clutching at his hand and burying her face in the pillow.

"No, no love, don't say that," he said quickly, pressing a flurry of kisses across her eyelids, nose, and flushed cheeks. "Narcissa, don't-"

His words were drowned by another drawn out wail- her fingers tightened around his, grinding the bones together. He winced, but not from his pain- rather, from the agony reflected on her face.

"Mort,"

"I'm here, Cissy. I'm here," he crooned, helping her wrap her limp arms around her neck and cradling her torso carefully. "I'm here."

* * *

For Lucius, the hours blurred together. He couldn't guess how long he'd been sitting there listening to her sobbing cries when, suddenly, silence fell. He held his breath, waiting to perhaps hear the cry of an infant- but there was nothing.

_She's dead._

He buried his face in his hands, groaning softly. He'd killed her. It wasn't that he hadn't killed before- many times, in fact, but that had always be premeditated, and for a purpose. He was glad that he'd gone to get Rodtimer, glad that she could be happy, if in pain. And- he paused to listen again, but was met once more with silence- no child, even?

* * *

The baby did not cry as he was lifted, instead drawing breaths in quick, sputtering gasps. There was a colllective sigh of relief as he was quickly cleaned and the cord neatly cut. Narcissa's bleeding was rapidly tended to, even as she clung to Mort. Her skin was damp and drained of color, her tenuous hold on her lover alarmingly weak- but she lived.

"Your son, Mrs. Malfoy," a healer murmured with deference to the moment, extending the child. Narcissa lifted her head fractionally, but collapsed back into the pillows, moaning softly. Her tired blue eyes watched her infant longingly, but she was unable to even utter a word. "Ahm, Mr. Malfoy?" she question, holding the boy to Rodtimer's arms.

"I'm not-" he began to object, but grasped the baby as the woman drew back.

For a moment, he stared in awe at the cloudly blue eyes that seemed to blindly trace his own face. The boy clenched a tiny fist, and turned his head when Mort brushed a reverent finger across the smooth, red cheek, small mouth opening. He held a piece of Narcissa, his Narcissa, in his arms, a miniscule human being that was composed of the woman he loved.

_And Malfoy._

Immediately, his chin jerked up, and his gaze sought Narcissa's. The love he saw in her eyes brought a curious, painful tightness to his chest, and he dropped to his knees beside her.

"He's perfect, Cissy," he whispered huskily, pressing his lips to her cheek. "Perfect."

"Mort," her voice was little more than a sighing breath. "I love," she paused to suck in a quick gulp of air, "you. I need... you to..."

"Hush my sweet, save your strength,"

She closed her eyes, a tiny crease fluttering across her brow. "No. Listen. Mort, you must... be happy. Live again. Rebastan said-"

"Damn Rebastan," he hissed, "But you must understand, I can't live without you. I can't-"

"You must. Please. For me?"

With a heavy sigh, kissing her temple. "Anything for you, Cissy. Anything."


	19. Chapter 19

For most of the first month, Narcissa didn't leave bed often. It wasn't that she didn't want to- in fact, she longed to stretch her legs, stand by the window, walk across the warm grounds. She held him whenever possible, insisting on nursing him herself despite her weakened state. She wished she had more strength and energy- whenever she fell asleep with her baby in her arms, he was always gone when she awoke. She didn't trust a house elf with her boy, and so did not ask him to be brought by any of the creatures that delivered meals. When he _was _carried into her room, it was by Lucius.

It had surprised her a bit that first time he'd come in. He had shouldered open the door, not knocking solely because he had not wanted to take a hand away from the infant. He cradled his son awkwardly, as though fearful that such a tiny body would slip through his much larger arms. Draco was crying softly, not in the loud, urgent way of most hungry infants.

"I think... I think he's hungry. He _must_ be hungry. If you're too tired, there are, of course, other options, but I thought I might ask you first."

"My baby," she sighed lifting a weak hand. "Bring him here."

Lucius obeyed, moving quickly to hand her Draco and gathing pillows to prop him comfortably in her arms.

"And open the wondow too on your way out, won't you? I love June." Narcissa yawned and winced, each tiny shift still stinging and sore. Once he was gone, she called out for her elf. "Mipsie, I need my potions."

* * *

By late July, Narcissa was taking shuffling strolls again, frequently pausing to sit where ever convenient. However, after the first few, she couldn't shake the odd sense of loneliness, until it occured to her what she was missing- her baby. After all, she'd never walked alone before, just without a tangible companion. Unfortunately, she was still too weak to tote around even her tiny newborn, leaving her in an uncomfortable predicament.

Narcissa hovered outside her husband's study for nearly a full minute before knocking tentatively. After a beat, the door swung open. Lucius looked taken aback to see her there, but not displeased.

"Is everything alright? Draco is still asleep, is he not?"

"Oh yes," she waved his concern aside. "I was thinking though, perhaps we could hire a nanny."

Lucius frowned, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. "And why would we need to do that?"

"Well, I'm often quite tired and it's rather difficult to care for him as I would like to for the time being."

His frown deepened. "Am I not caring for him in a satisfactory manner when you are incapable of doing so?"

"Well, I suppose, but you must have important work and such and I-"

"Narcissa," he interrupted, "nothing, _nothing_, is more important to me than our son."

"It would still be nice to have someone to, I don't know, carry him with me when I go for walks, or bring me my potions- house elves are useful, but human interaction is nice too."

With a heavy sigh, Lucius shut his eyes and dipped his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Narcissa," _I exist. _"I truly believe that _I _would be able to do that."

"Er," Narcissa frowned, ignoring his slightly pained look at her hesitation. "Perhaps I could owl my mother and ask her to visit?"

* * *

"Oh, such a beautiful grandson I have! Yes, I do," Druella crooned in an uncharacteristically warm manner, pressing her lips to the baby's cheek. He offered her a toothless grin, fisting his hands around the Majorcan pearls she wore about her neck. "Good taste, too," she continued, smiling tenderly. "And how are you feeling, Cissy?"

Narcissa sighed and turned her face up to the sun, eyes closed. It was a beautiful early August day, and she was enjoying her mother's company as they toured the gardens of the Malfoy Manor. At the moment, they sat on a wide, elaborately carved marble bench, and a fountain splashed softly nearby.

"How am I ever?" she replied. "I love my baby; Draco is undoubtedly the light of my life, and I suppose he always will be. I've accepted that every other aspect of it will always be nothing but misery."

Druella cleared her throat uncomfortably. "I see," she muttered, and then said loudly, "Er, hello, Lucius!"

Narcissa's eyes popped open as her husband strode forward across the lawn. He nodded repectfully at the slightly embarassed Mrs. Black, and showed no indication of having heard her daughter's comment.

"How are you, Druella?" he asked quietly as he took a seat beside his mother-in-law.

"I'm well, thank you- just admiring this _wonderful_ little boy here!"

Immediately, his hard mask vanished as he warmed to the subject of his son. "Draco is quite brilliant- he's already rolling over, and holds his head up very well."

"Really?" Druella laughed, surprised by his enthusiasm. "I see he has your eyes too; I suppose he'll be just like his father?"

"Perhaps," Narcissa cut in coldly, obviously not fond of the idea, and disliking the fact that her little one's blue eyes, like her own, had faded to grey. "I think he's looking a bit drowsy though; Lucius, would take him inside?"

"Of course," he demured, taking Draco as he rose. However, he seemed to move oddly as he returned back across the lawn. Without thinking, Narcissa called out, "Lucius, are you limping?"

He froze, turning back, eyes flashing dangerously. "I beg you pardon?" he hissed, causing Narcissa to draw back in alarm.

"Well, I mean," she backtracked rapidly, "You aren't... injured?"

"_No,_" he snarled darkly, and headed back towards the Manor with stiff, deliberate steps. Druella stood abruptly.

"Narcissa, dear, I think I'd best go." She leaned forward to give her youngest daughter a peck on the cheek, ignoring her protests, and disapparated with a _pop_. Shaken, Narcissa looked uncertainly up towards the sprawling chateau of a house. She was almost positive that Lucius had, in fact, been limping, but that wasn't what worried her- she never seen him respond so violently. A fiery side of his monotonous personality had never been exposed to her before- how much more was he hiding?

* * *

That night, Narcissa woke up to the sound of Draco crying. It had happened before, but this time, it did not stop- usually, his tears were soothed almost instantly by his father, and if it was nourishment that he needed, Lucius brough him in to feed. Otherwise, Narcissa slept through the night as she continued to regain her strength.

Tonight, however, the insistent wails did not cease. She rose and padded down the hall to the nursery.

"Hush, baby boy, mama's here," she crooned through a yawn, staggering back into a chair. "Yes, you're alright," she murmured, head lolling back onto the head rest. "It's alright."

She was reawakened by a muffled _crack._ Her eyes opened groggily, and she realized Draco was still curled on her chest, fast asleep. After placing him back in his crib, she poked her head into the corridor. A light was shining from Lucius's bedroom, and she tiptoed forward. She's never been in his room before- but why was he apparating so late at night?

"Lucius?" she knocked softly, but there was no response from within. "Lucius?" she repeated, pushing the door open carefully. "Is every thing alright?"

"Fuck! Narcissa, get out of here!" His voice was rough and furious, and she jumped at the sound of it. She was very nearly frightened into obeying- until she saw the blood.

At first, she only noticed the dull, wet glimmer splattered carelessly across the lush carpet in the dim lighting- but as her eyes traveled around the large, unfamiliar room, she realized heavy streaks of crimson scarred the silk sheets of Lucius's bed. Lucius; the source of the mess. He was sprawled awkwardly across his mattress, wearing nothing but dark shorts, and his gory wounds were thrown into stark contrast against icy white flesh. He clutched his wand in one hand, but whatever charms he was attempting to use to stem the flow of blood were failing. His breaths were quick, random, and shallow, and the skin that was not painted by blood was glazed in a fine sheen of sweat. A deep gash on his legs was poorly bandaged and seeping, although she guessed from the darkened crust that it was at least a day or two old. However, Narcissa couldn't guess the size of the injury across his chest- his entire abdomen was a sickeningly bright, slick red, red that ran in rivulets from his sides and pooled on the blanket beneath him. And, perhaps most gruesome of all, a twisted black brand apparent of his left forearm. She'd seen that symbol before- plastered on the from page of the _Daily Prophet,_ with lists of murdered victims below. She knew what it was, and what it meant.

"_Go,_" he commanded again. This time, she heard the raw desperation behind it, the muted agony- how could she have missed it before?

_It would be so easy._ To just back quietly from the room, close the door and return to her own bed. In the morning, at a decent hour, she could floo the Ministry- convincingly hysterical, of course. He would bleed out soon enough, and no one would miss Lucius Malfoy once it became known he was a Death Eater. She could weave any convining tale she liked- who would think poorly of the duped wife of a killer? Or perhaps she could say she _did_ know, but she could say that he made sport of hurting her, and she feared for her life and the life of her child if she went public with her knowledge. Immediately, her mind began to embellish the tale. _How had she married him?_ Under duress, of course. She loved her family, how could she not do anything to appease the monster threatening them, even if it meant sacrificing herself? _The child?_ Well, he'd raped her, obviously, but she loved her little boy none the less; he wasn't his father. She'd be admired for her bravery. _And what do you plan to do now that you're free, Miss Black?_ Well, firstly-

A low groan slipped through Lucius's gritted teeth, jarring her back to reality and shattering her fantasy.

_If I leave him, will that make me a murderer too?_ Carefully, she crept into the vast chamber. She'd never set foot inside this room before, and wasn't particularly pleased to be doing so now.

"We... we should get you cleaned up, I reckon," she suggested in a too-casual voice. But who was she kidding? _I don't know a think about injuries or healing them!_ "And then we'll get you to St. Mungo's-"

"No! No, you can't," he panted. "Just... a towel... or something... and water."

"Right. Mipsie," she called, "towels. And a bowl. Two bowls, one with water." The creature obeyed, and Narcissa began to wipe his chest delicately with trembling fingers, wringing pink water into the empty dish periodically. It soon became evident that a deep gash ran from his right shoulder to just a above his navel.

"Diluted... Bundimun... draught," he gasped. "And Dittany. In... there." He gestured towards an open door on the opposite wall, and Narcissa hurried into the bathroom. It was abnormally tidy- like a posh resort's restroom. Luxurious, to be sure- a large jacuzzi tub before a panoramic window that looked as though it had never been used, a shower with glass doors, white, neatly folded towels, a single tooth brush as the most personal touch- but uncomfortably sterile. She flung open the cabinet to find the two vials he described at the front (each was neatly labeled and organized) and seemed to be recently used. Grabbing them quickly, she darted back to Lucius's side.

"I've got them," she announced, awaiting further instruction.

"Bundimun's... to clean. Dittany... helps. A bit."

"Right," she muttered, pouring the first liberally into the open wound. He gasped, eyes flying open as he choked,

"Not so much!"

Upon further inspection, Narcissa noticed a faint stream of steam seemed to be rising as tiny bubbles appeared in his blood; the over-use was not merely destroying infection: it was literally boiling inside of him.

"Ughn..." he moaned, hands fisting in the drenched sheets around him. Lucius hissed a string of obscenities and twisted ineffectually against the burning that now occompanied his already life-threatening injury.

"I'm sorry," Narcissa whispered, biting her lip uncertainly.

"You didn't... know," he grunted in grudging forgiveness. After a moment, he reminded her, "My leg, too."

Carefully, she unwrapped the other lacertation, and dabbed a bit of the Bundimun into it.

"Good," he encouraged. "Dittany now."

It did seem to help some- the bleeding all but ceased on his upper body, and, after the application on his thigh, the other cut was nearly gone. At last, Lucius gave a heavy sigh of relief.

"I need bandages now," he murmured, the smooth muscles of his brow indicating that most of his discomfort was gone.

"Mipsie," Narcissa called. When she was brought the linen strips, neatly rolled, she eased his leg across he lap.

"Narcissa,"

She glanced up at the sound of her name. He was staring at her curiously as she wrapped his leg carefully. "Yes? Am I doing it wrong?"

"No, not at all." He frowned, watching her motions for a moment. "Are you not frightened?"

Well, she _hadn't_ been, not when she'd been doing such a good job of ignoring the obvious matter at hand.

In fact- she rather believed that, in some circumstances, ignorance was bliss. "Frightened of what?" she replied innocently.

"I know you are not dense," he snapped, irritated by her feigned oblivion.

"It's better if I don't know, isn't it?" she returned harshly, yanking the wrappings a bit too tight, but relenting when she saw him wince. "I mean, what can I think?"

"Are you going to go the the Ministry? Turn me in?" he demanded bluntly.

"If I planned to do that, wouldn't it have been easier to let you die? I'll look like an accomplice now." _Damn._ That hadn't actually occured to her until she said it out loud.

"But..." his brow furrowed as she finished with his leg and moved to his upper body. "Why?"

"You were... bleeding. A lot."

"You could have let me die," he said softly, eyes still tracing her every movement. Narcissa frowned and shook her head.

"I'd already seen the blood. I couldn't live with the guilt of knowing I'd done nothing to stop a death that wasn't inevitable." _Even yours._

Lucius allowed his eyes to slide shut, and captured her petite hand in him much larger one. "Lie to me," he whispered roughly, drawing her stained fingers to his cheek.

"I- I'm sorry?" She was too surprised to pull away as he leaned into the involuntary touch.

"Tell me it's because you didn't want _me _to die. Please; lie to me."


	20. Chapter 20

By October, she was feeling marginally better- almost herself again. The potions she'd been taking had diminished her appetite, and while she'd eaten enough to keep her strength up, and only what was healthy, her weight had dropped almost to pre-baby numbers. And she wanted to go out.

_Dear Rabastan,_

_I'm headed to Diagon Alley for a bit of shopping with my baby boy- I'd love to see you, and meet Lysandra too, if you two are still going well. Fortescue's at noon? _

_Love, Cissy_

* * *

"Rebastan, there you are!"

"Cissy, Merlin, look at you! A son- bloody hell, you have a _son!_"

"My baby Draco," she cooed, flinging an arm around her friend and kissing his cheek. "Oh, and you must be Lysandra!"

The other lady gave a reserved smile. She was tall and slender, her skin a flawless tawny gold. She wore a tight, short, and low-cut dress, revealing shapely, smooth legs and a generous amount of cleavage. Long, light brown hair fell perfectly down her back, curling at the ends, and she regarded Narcissa wish speculative black eyes.

"Ah, yes. I am." Her tone was distant, and she strode forward on spiky heels to extend a perfectly manacured hand. "It's lovely to finally meet you, Narcissa. Rabastan's told me so much about you." Her voice held none of the warmth of her words. Grinning, Rabastan curled an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. The smile she offered him seemed less than sincere, but she kissed him back and fluffed his hair.

"And you thought I was exaggerating when I said she was beautiful, didn't you?" he accused Narcissa playfully.

"Oh, Rabby," Lysandra crooned, pressing highly glossed lips to his neck, "Have you been saying silly things again?"

"Nothing but the truth, my love," he returned adoringly.

Narcissa cleared her throat uncomfortably, and Rabastan quickly drew away. "Sorry, Cissy. Let's admire that boy of yours, shall we? And how are you these days? With Malfoy and all?" he asked as they settled into the seats outside the ice cream shop.

Suddenly, Lysandra, whose gaze had been wandering uninterestedly, looked up. "_Lucius_ Malfoy?" she specified quickly. Narcissa nodded uncertainly, and she pressed curiously, "What relationship do you have to Lucius Malfoy?"

"He- he's my husband."

The other woman's eyes grew huge. "_You're _Lucius Malfoy's wife? Rabastan never told me _that_."

Rabastan frowned. "I hadn't realized it was relevant-"

"Yeah, whatever, sweetheart." Lysandra checked her watch. "Ah, pardon me, but I really must be on my way. Appointment that _completely _slipped my mind." She rose, but turned back to bend over and kiss Rabastan. He eagerly reciprocated, but she drew back, smiling teasingly and pinching his lips together. "Now, now, be a good boy, and I'll give you a treat later." She winked and sashayed off. Rabastan's eyes followed each step hungrily, and when he turned back to Narcissa, he was glowing.

"She's something, isn't she?"

"Indeed," Narcissa returned dryly.

"Anyway, forgive me for that. Are things still dreadful with Malfoy?"

"Well," she began slowly, "things are odd."

Rabastan raised his eyebrows. "That's... an improvement?"

"I don't know. Rabastan, I need to tell you something." She leaned forward taking his hands in her own, and put her lips very near his ear. "I'm only telling you this because I would trust you with my life. And I know you support the Pure-blood cause...Do what you will with it. Lucius... is a Death Eater."

Her fingers tightened around his, and she drew back to check his reaction. Shock? Anger? Bemusement?

A knowing smirk?

"Cissy, darling," he patted her hand condescendingly, and she jerked away, scowling.

"You can't possibly tell me that everyone already knows! If everyone knew, then he'd be in Azkaban!"

"No one knows who could breathe a word without incriminating themselves," he told her meaningfully. Her eyes widened.

"You mean to say that you...?"

Slowly, proudly, Narcissa thought, he nodded. "And others too, Cissy."

"People _I _know?"

"Spoken to your sister lately?"

Narcissa gasped. "Bella? Bella would _tell _me something like that!"

"And Rodolphus, Evan Rosier... you remember Crabbe and Goyle? Severus Snape, and, most recently... Rodtimer."

Well, that settled it. "I suppose... it's alright then."

"'Alright'? It's not the time nor place to go into further detail, Cissy, but let me assure you, it is more than 'alright'. Anyway, so you know Malfoy's one too. Has that in some way impacted you marriage?"

"Well..." she carefully explained to him the night she'd found Lucius dying on his bed, ending with the moment he'd asked her to lie. Rabastan breathed a low whistle.

"And what did you _say_ to that?"

"You and I both know I can't lie worth a damn, and besides, I think I'd done more than enough for him that evening. So I finished what I was doing, and I left. We haven't really spoken since then."

"Seem's to me like he's crazy about you."

"That's... utterly preposterous. But... sort of the I've been getting, too. And I can't understand why! I mean, I've never shown him any indication that I have any interest in loving him."

"Some times we just can't help it," he said with a shrug.

"But he hasn't said anything," she argued.

"Hasn't he? So you could do what, Narcissa? Not respond and walk out of the room?"

"I don't love him though! I don't even _like _him. Half the time he's not even tolerable!"

"Maybe go home and talk to him. See if we're just imagining this."

"And what good will that do? It's like trying to converse with a brick wall."

"Give it a shot. Sit there long enough, and the wall might just say something back."

* * *

"Mipsie, is your master home?" After settling Draco down for his nap, she turned to her elf.

"Yes mistress. He is being in his study."

"Thank you."

When Narcissa pushed open the heavy wooden door, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Heavy drapes were pulled against the bright sunshine, casting the room into gloomy darkness. The only source of light was a fireplace that held only dying embers. She could see the back of Lucius's head silhouetted as he faced the hearth. His hand was extened to the table beside his armchair, and his long fingers were curled around a nearly empty tumbler, next to a mostly drained decanter. She certainly hoped that that had diminished over the course of time, and not all today.

"Where were you?"

She jumped at the sound of his voice- Narcissa hadn't known that he was aware of her arrival. "Diagon Alley. I went to visit a friend."

"You took Draco." His words were low and heavy and monotonous. He did not turn to face her, but the tumbler vanished briefly as he lifted it to his lips. When he set it back down, the alcohol was gone.

"Yes, well I wanted to introduce an old friend to my baby. Is that a problem?"

"Yes. You did not leave word of where you were going." Spoken slowly.

Irritation flooded her. "I didn't realize that I needed permission to briefly leave this particular prison. Any way, that isn't what I wanted to discuss. This friend and I were thinking and, now this may be totally ridiculous, but... Lucius, if you are under the notion that you love me, I suggest you rid yourself of it."

He did not reply, and the passage of time was marked by the steady ticking of a stately grandfather clock whose shape she could barely discern through the pressing grey. After waiting for all too many ticks to pass, she demanded, "Do you love me?"

When Lucius did not immediately reply, she bit her tongue to keep from yelling the question, although she was certain he'd heard her the first time.

"Did you know," he began, drawing out every word and pausing at the end of each one to stretch the phrase out for what seemed to be an eternity. "That I have bought you presents?"

"I- what?"

"One for each of your birthdays since we have been wed, one for the Christmases, and even for our anniversary. I spent hours picking out each one, imagining the look on your face when you opened it. Most are obscenely expensive, some are not- Do you know where those gifts are now?"

Narcissa stared blankly as he poured the rest of the decanter's contents into his tumbler, face still towards the fire.

"Not even a guess? Very well, I shall tell you. They are in my closet, all neatly wrapped and untouched. I tried to give you one- on our anniversary, perhaps you remember the day? Christmas came before that, of course, but you fled my home on that occasion, so long I though that maybe you had died, or run off with your precious Yaxley- I had to get your sister to tell me if you were still my wife. But any how, our anniversary. You were crying, but you wanted nothing to do with me... If I'd given you the bracelet I'd chosen, you probably would have spat on it and thrown it in a drawer to never be seen again."

Speechless, Narcissa watched as he drained the remaining amber liquid and set the glass down sharply.

"Do you remember our wedding night? I wish I couldn't. You asked me to turn the lights off, do you recall? You didn't want to see me. I could tell from your eyes that I disgusted you, and you couldn't bear to see or be seen by me. And then..." he paused drawing in a ragged, unsteady breath, "This is my favorite part: you asked- no, _begged_- me not to touch you. Do you remember that?" He gave a short, bitter laugh. "At first I thought, perhaps hoped, 'Well, she is a virgin. She doesn't understand what needs to be done.' But that wasn't the case, was it? No; you were sickened by the very idea of me. I coud feel your revulsion, your hatred- my mere eyes on your flesh was enough to make you skin crawl, wasn't it? I wanted you so badly- I wanted feel you come alive in my arms, respond willingly, if nothing else... But you cried. The _entire time._ I'm not certain whether or not you realized it, but you silently sobbed the whole time, and then ran out of bed to wash me away the moment it was over. And do you know what I did? I went into my room and was sick all over the carpet. I was so upset that I'd hurt you, it made me literally ill. And the very next day... You asked me if we were going on a honeymoon. If I had thought, for even a second, that it was because you wanted to be with me, I would have said yes in a heartbeat, and we would have been gone by morning. But I knew it wasn't, and being alone with your unending dispisal of me would have been torture. You could say I was selfish- I knew you wished to escape my family- but I refused. You told me again not to touch you, and then- I guess you thought I was asleep- but you said something to yourself about Chelsea being 'stupid' for _electing_ to share my bed? Flattering darling, I really must say...

"I though maybe a child would help things. I was elated when you told be you were pregnant the first time. I wanted so badly to kiss you! But you, my dear, stubborn wife, would have none of that, would you? Not even at one of the most joyful points in our marriage. Not even when I hadn't once kissed you since we agreed to our wedding vows, and I would hardly consider that a kiss, anyway. Not a kiss like you gave Yaxley, in front of all those people at the ball where our engagement was announced. Or the one when he was leaving St. Mungo's after Draco's birth. Merlin, those were both fun occasions, weren't they? But I thought the pregnancy would give you a bit of relief, maybe you'd smile occasionally now that you were rid of me from your bed. But you didn't, and that letter you were writing to your sister... Bloody hell, Narcissa, I was so careful never to hurt you, to make it any worse than you were making it for yourself. I read that note over and over again when I found it in your room, and I can still recall the words perfectly: '_Lucius seemed pleased too, perhaps he was getting impatient. I've already decided to love the baby, if not its father. I wonder if this is how impregnated rape victims feel, just knowing that there is an entirely innocent soul within them, untainted by their sire.'" _He stopped. "Rape, Narcissa, is a very strong word. I may have commited many crimes, but never one so vulgar as that. As for my so-called impatience... I would have happily spent hours every night making love to you, if only you would let me. Nothing would have given me more joy than than to wake up beside you each morning. It was not a baby I wanted. It was your happiness. And since your happiness excluded me entirely, in fact, was damaged by my mere prescence- how could I not want to be able to stay away?

"And then Beatrice pushed you. My littlest sister is the only person in the world I can talk to, the only person who won't judge me. She loves me unconditionally- too much, you may have realized by now. She knew how you were hurting me, and she hated you for it; 'She was very young... she did not understand that to push an inconvenient person over a cliff solves nothing,'" he quoted wryly. "In fact, in this case, it made the situation quite worse. I had no option to send my darling little sister, my only joy, away- and my father, _your _only joy, went with her. The baby was gone, but you would not permit me to grieve with you. So while you suffered daily for the loss, I swept that particular pain with all the rest beneath a cool facade and continued on with life. 'Wait a month,' the Healer said, and almost ten months later, you still tried to convince me it was too soon. But that was because you needed time to do your research, wasn't it? Research on babies conceived without sex. Because, obviously, you would rather humiliate both of us with an unnecessary procedure rather than face touching me ever again. Did you ever find, in all your studies, that that was meant for couple who loved one another, who wanted to procreate, but were unable to? I hardly believed we fell into that category, so I denied the request. Eventually, you became pregnant again. Once more, I was overjoyed, but knew better than to show you, this time. But... something was wrong. You didn't want to tell me, but then you did. What was your justification for keeping the baby, again? It wasn't because you wanted it, nor because you wished to carry on our bloodlines. It wasn't even because you'd agreed, in our marriage contract, copied almost word for word from my own parent's, to do all that was physically possible to deliever a Malfoy heir. It was... ah, yes. It was because you would rather _die_ than live alone with me. Touching, truly heartfelt and touching...

"I would come to check on you at night and one time... you were smiling. You must be baffled by this obsession appear to have with your smile, but you must recognize that, not once, not even before our engagement, have you smiled at me. I've seen your smile and heard you laugh before... You smile at Draco, at your mother and sister, at Yaxley and Lestrange- at polite sales clerks and other people's children, at fellow mothers you pass down in the village, at faces you dimly recognize from your school days. You smile when your elf brings you something and occasionally thank her. But not once, _once,_ have you ever smiled at _me._

"Anyway, back to that night. You were smiling in your sleep, so I though I would risk touching you. I'd seen others place their hands over your stomach and exclaim in delight over our child's movements, but I'd never been granted the opportunity to do so myself. At first I felt nothing, but then you... you..." he paused, seeming to be momentarily overwhelmed, "You put your hand over mine, guiding it so I could feel his little flutterings. You must think me to be a fool- of course, I should have realized you were dreaming of _him._ But for one breathless moment, I thought..." he stopped, and shook his head. "Nevermind what I thought. You woke up just then and pushed me away, and all was back to normal.

"Then, you were in labor. How frightened I was! I wanted to stay by you, encourage you and give you strength, be there with you when our only child was born- but no. You would rather have died alone than with me at your side. I could accept that- had to, really. What other choice did I have? The more calm you were, the better your chance of surviving, and I couldn't be responsible for your death because I was too selfish to step aside. And then... that nurse came out. You must have been asking for Yaxley; not a surprise, really, because you do it all the time: when you're in pain, when you're happy, in your sleep. But she said that you were frightened and asking for 'Mort'. What else could I do? You didn't really want to be alone, you just didn't want me. So I went to find him. I brought him back and everything went well, so I suppose I can't regret my decision. Even if he _was _the one that held you through labor, that kissed you and promised that all would be well. Even if he was the first person to hold _my _son. Draco didn't cry and your screams had stopped- I thought you had both died. Nearly thirty minutes passed befor anyone came out to tell me otherwise, that you were both alive. For half an hour, I though I had killed you. Perhaps some wouldn't blame me, but I would; Yaxley would too, and you sister. For thirty minutes, Narcissa, I wanted to die. I couldn't move, could scarely breathe, and then someone strolls out, casual as could be, and says 'Oh, were waiting out here all this time? Mrs. Malfoy is going to make it, and she's got a perfect baby boy, too.'

"Things seemed alright for a while, other than the fact you wanted a nanny so I might not be able to care for my son. And then that night... I was hurt, and you took care of me, and I thought 'At last, perhaps she will change her mind. Perhaps she does not so desperately want me dead'. But you wouldn't even allow me that illusion, would you? I asked, but you wouldn't... even... _lie._"

He lapsed into silence and Narcissa stood staring at the back of his head, immobile with shock. Then, terribly slowly, he began to rise. She realized she was shaking as he moved forward, but could not bring herself to flee. He stalked towards her carefully- she could recognize that he was very drunk, although not a single word he had spoken had been slurred.

He didn't stop until he was directly before her, so close that her nose nearly touched his chest as he looked down at her.

"So you ask, do I love you? Yes. I love you. You believe I should rid myself of the notion. Do think that there is _anything _I would not give to be able to do that?" He didn't wait for a response. "But I am done with it all. I am not a masochist, contrary to what this may look like. You will see on that table a stack of parchments. Read them and sign them. They are divorce papers. An embarassment to the Malfoy name, to be certain, but the only duty I feel any longer is to my sanity. The only thing it stipulates that you may not agree with is that Draco shall remain mine. You may, of course visit him whenever you'd like, and weekends could be yours, we would divide holidays- but he would need to spend more time with me than with Yaxley. His loyalty would have to be to his true father- he would have to be a Malfoy in more than just name and breeding. Other than that, you will find that I have no demands, and I will grant any of your requests within reason. You will leave this marriage richer than you entered it, and I will have a son- I suppose we can both say we did quite well for ourselves."

Finally, Narcissa found her voice. "Why take Draco from me? You can remarry, have other children; he will always be my only."

"So selfish," he hissed coldly. "I offer you a king's ransom, and I am not taking Draco from you, just requiring that you do not steal him from me. I will never remarry; he is my sole heir."

Narcissa stepped back. "Very well, then." She turned on one heel, and marched from the study. However, once she was out of his sight, she ran. She sprinted through the Manor into her bedroom, grabbed a quill and parchment, and scratched hastily,

_Mort, I must see you immediately._


	21. Chapter 21

Narcissa stared into the mirror, smiling as she brushed imaginary wrinkles from her robes. Just thirty minutes more. A half hour, and she would be freed from Lucius, and with her beloved Rodtimer once more. Already, she had a small bag packed- she'd have the rest sent to her. She glanced lovingly at the note Mort had sent. It was brief, but she treasured anything written by his own hand.

_Cissy, Meet me outside of Gringotts tommorow at one. I have to tell you something._

She supposed that 'something' she already knew- that he was a Death Eater. But before she left, there was something she needed to do. Draco would be waking from his nap soon.

When she crept into the nursery, he was already stirring, and she scooped him up.

"My baby, my angel," she crooned, showering his face with soft kisses. "You know I love you. But I can't be happy here, and it would do no good to raise you surrounded by misery. I'll see you on weekends and every holiday, I promise. And when you meet Mort, you'll love him, and he'll adore you, because who doesn't? This isn't goodbye, my sweet, I promise. I love you." Draco whined unhappily as she placed him back in his crib. "Hush, dearest. Be good."

She was sure he would be alright. After all, she would see him as early as Saturday. She was glad she'd weaned him early- he only nursed now occasionally for comfort, not necessity. Narcissa lifted her sachel, took a deep breath, and apparated to Diagon Alley.

* * *

She waited impatiently on the marble steps of Gringotts until she saw him. "Mort!" she cried, springing from her vantage point and pushing through the crowd. "Mort!" There was a break in the bodies and she shot towards him, flinging her arms around his shoulders and burying her face in his neck. "Oh, Mort, I've missed you!" And she had. He looked so _well_ again, just as he did in her memories.

"How are you Cissy?" he murmured kindly as he drew back, smiling gently. "I want you to meet someone."

And then suddenly, everything was terribly wrong. He reached to wrap his arm around the waist of a short, lovely girl with bright green eyes and a sleek black bob. She grinned brightly at Narcissa.

"Hi there. It's wonderful, _so _wonderful to meet you," she said sweetly, her voice painfully sincere. "I'm Jennifer."

Narcissa couldn't properly draw in a lungful of air, though she tried desperately to gasp calming oxygen. There was a dull, muffled roar in her ears, stifling anything, everything but the way Mort, _her_ Mort, adoringly held another woman.

"I did exactly as you asked, Narcissa," Rodtimer said with a supressed sort of joy in his tone. "As soon as I left the hospital. I knew, after that ordeal, if I waited any time at all, I would be completely lost. And that very night... I met Jen. I was a mess, as I'm sure you can imagine." He paused here to smile warmly at the woman at his side. She smiled back cheerfully. "And she, without doubt, has saved me. It's taken some time, but... It's wonderful. I can _breathe _again, live, like you said. And I can never thank you enough, Narcissa, for letting me have this." He bent forward to press his lips softly to Narcissa's forehead. Light. Friendly. "We're getting married in three months."

"What?" Narcissa cried, horrified. "But you've only just met!"

Immediately, Rodtimer's brow creased. "It's been five months. Are you upset?"

_Yes!_ she longed to scream. This was all wrong! She glanced over at Jennifer's pretty, round face. It was creased with concern.

"But aren't you married, Narcissa?" she asked softly, worridly.

"I'm-"

"You said you wanted me to be happy again," Mort said, baffled. "And I am."

_Please,_ Jennifer's eyes seemed to beg, _don't take him from me._

"I... I am," she muttered at last. "And... It's wonderful that you two have found each other."

Instantly, the other two relaxed. Jennifer wrapped her arms around Rodtimer's waist and rested her head on his chest with a tiny, relieved smile. Mort ducked his head to kiss the top of her hair. "And how's your son, Cissy?"

* * *

When Narcissa returned to the Malfoy Manor, she could scarcely breathe. She needed to find Draco, hold him and draw comfort from him before she collapsed or went into shock. When she reached the nursery, however, her haze was broken.

Lucius lay sprawled across the floor, and Draco was perched delightedly on his chest, supported only by a hand on his back. The littler of the blondes babbled contently, tipping forward occasionally to be quickly caught. A stuffed dragon and several other toys lay about, but Draco seemed most captivated by his father's face, often reaching forwards to press Lucius's nose flat, push fingertips against his brow, and distort his mouth- Draco shreiked in delight each time he did this, because Lucius playfully nibbled his fingers whenever the digits wandered near enough.

Narcissa pushed open the door, and Lucius looked up- the flash of elation was so abrupt, so painfully intense, that Narcissa had to look away. "You came back," he breathed, half sitting up and catching Draco in his arms. "You..." his eyes fell on her bag, and the joy instantly vanished. "forgot something," he mumbled, eyes dropping to Draco's little face.

"No," she replied stiffly. "I did not. What kind of mother would I be," she said coldly as she crossed the room to lift Draco and hold him tightly, "if I just _abandoned_ my only son?" Narcissa buried her face in his soft, baby neck. Still, she could not stifle her tears. "I suppose," she whispered, "I will just have to bear living here."

If her own pain wasn't so suffocating, she might have felt pity for the agony on his face. Might have felt guilty for the lie.

"Narcissa," he rose slowly to face her. "I'm sorry. I am. But I _can't_. Don't you see? I just... can't give him to you. Not him too. If you take Draco... I'll have nothing."

"I understand," she mumbled. He glanced at her, startled.

"You do?"

"Yes. But Lucius... We can't live like this any more." She settled Draco against her shoulder. He gurgled happily, secured a fistful of her long blonde hair, and began to knaw on it gleefully with toothless gums. Uncertainly, Lucius nodded.

"What are you suggesting?"

She sighed, hardly believing the words that were forming in her own mouth. "We... must... _change_ things."

"But," he inferred carefully, "you don't wish to?"

"Well, I can't possibly be any _more _unhappy, could I?" she snapped, then paused. She'd been counting on happily living with Mort by now, and had not wished to confront the issue of Lucius's speech. It probably would do no good to be cruel to him now that she recognized he was not actually heartless, but old habits were hard to break.

"I think," she continued in a tight but kinder tone, "that we need to be truly husband and wife. I will..." she swallowed hard, "move into your room. And we absolutely _must_," she looked at him seriously, "and this is imperative- we must... talk. I cannot do this easily. I... cannot. So, we must communicate with one another. Every day. No more months of silence."

Lucius nodded slowly. "And we must be perfectly honest," he proposed. She wondered if he was thinking off all the time he spent suffering in silence, and bobbed her head in agreement.

"Right. Honest. And Lucius," she flushed slightly. "Just because I'm in your bedroom doesn't mean... well, not right away... you know?"

"Of course."

"So..." she handed Draco back to him gently. "I'll go move my things. If you don't mind?"

"Not at all."

Once she was out of the room, she vigorously wiped the tears from her face. "Mipsie, we've got work to do."

* * *

The first night she spent in Lucius's bedroom, Narcissa learned several things about her husband.

First, he was terribly tidy. As she put her belongings away, she made note of his- the meticulously organized closets, drawers and cabinets, beyond the neatness of an elf. Clearly, he thrived on order. It made her vaguely uncomfortable- it was almost inhuman, the perfection of how he lived. Would he expect her to be so neat too? It wasn't that she was a slob by any means, but she had been known occasionally to leave shoes in a convenient pile, or lay several sets of robes out. For a moment, she thought affectionately at the mess that Mort used to leave around his dormitory- belts and trousers slung over his four poster bed, the occasional sock Narcissa would find between the sheets when they lay there, curled up together and giggling-

Immediately, Narcissa forced the imaged from her mind like slamming a lid on box. She wouldn't think about that now. Never.

Secondly, it became apparent that he was some sort of insomniac. After putting Draco down for the night, she went to get ready for bed herself. However, Lucius did not come in until well after she'd settled beneath the unfamiliar blankets- it was past midnight when the knob turned at last. Although she feigned sleep, Narcissa watched him carefully. His movements were practiced, and rigid. He removed his shoes and placed them carefully in his closet. His elf tottered after him, collecting Lucius's socks, robes, and his white oxford. He hung his belt up with the rest, collected a pair of silk black shorts, and disappeared into the bathroom. She heard the shower run briefly, and a while later a toilet flushed, the sink ran- it was odd, she mused, but he was just like any other person, not some statue. When he emerged, his pale blonde hair was wet and plastered to the back of his neck, neatly combed away from his face. As he approached the bed, she clenched her eyes tightly shut- but he didn't crawl in next to her. She cracked an eye- he seemed to be watching her. With a sigh, he moved across the room to settle at his desk and began scratching a letter.

"Lucius?" At last, she lifted her head.

"Yes?" he murmured, not looking up.

"Er..." Well, certainly she must have had a reason for interrupting him. "Uhm, who are you writing to?"

He paused. "My sister."

"Beatrice?" Narcissa frowned.

"Yes."

"You... like her better than your other sisters?"

"Yes."

Honestly, trying to coax a conversation out of him when he wasn't drunk was like pulling teeth.

"Why? Why do you prefer her, I mean."

Again, he hesitated. "She... was always so... helpless."

Narcissa snorted. She would not describe the violent teen who'd pushed her down the stairs as 'helpless'. Mildly psychotic, yes. Helpless? Probably not.

"Obviously, you wouldn't think so. But my mother... did not want any more children after she gave my father an heir, you see. She was... displeased when she learned that she had conceived another baby. Even more so when she realized it was a girl. She handed her over to elves and nannies directly after her birth. My father was busy, and my elder sisters were young and selfish- if I did not care for her, she would have be raised solely by inferior caregivers. She would have survived, but lacked any sense of propriety in how to behave in our society."

Despite herself, Narcissa smiled. "That was kind of you."

"Obviously though, I failed. She was over-indulged by my attention and trust. I realize that she hurt you, _us_, Narcissa, but so many years, she was the only person who would listen to me..."

"It seems strange, you being so close to her. I'm mean, I'm the youngest, but I've heard little siblings can be quite impossible... I know Bella and I had our fair share of fights!"

"But I had to take care of her, Narcissa," he repeated, brow creasing. "I would no more fight with her than a I would with Draco- the difference is, as she became older, she became a friend as well. Actually," he looked thoughtful for a moment. "It's rather like Rodolphus."

"I beg your pardon?"

"His little sister, Caroline- have you not met her? Probably not, she's not allowed out often. She has a heart condition, you see, sadly incurable, so Rodolphus treats her like a porcelain doll. She rarely leaves the house, and he insists on accompanying her where ever she _does _go."

Narcissa raised her eyebrows, aghast. "What a dreadful life! So dull- can't she have any fun?"

"Well," he mused, "probably not much. But he takes her to dinners and such with some frequency."

"What about at school?"

"I believe she is home schooled."

"Friends? Any?"

"Probably not outside of her family. Although I believe she and Tricey get along well; they're about the same age, I think."

"She must be unhappy."

"She's dying," he said bluntly. "Any sort of vigorous exercise, or accelerated heartrate could be fatal- if she gets excited, or scared, startled... She's living by a delicate thread. Obviously, she can't expect too much."

"Still," she frowned, "I'd like to meet her, I think. She must be lonely."

"Alright. If you'd like."

"I'll write to Bella tomorrow and ask if we can have dinner!" she decided brightly. Lucius nodded once, then rose and flicked his wand, and the room darkened. When Narcissa felt him climb into bed beside her she scooted towards the opposite edge. She thought, but wasn't certain, that she heard Lucius sigh.

"Good night, Narcissa," he murmured.

"G'night!" she chirped, overly-bright.

It was dark and all was still, but Narcissa was no longer tired. The events of the day swirled painfully in her mind- try as she might, she could not erase Jennifer's bright green gaze, nor Mort's adoring look at his fiance- a look Narcissa had previously believed was solely for _her_. She wasn't aware that she'd started crying until her hand flew up to stifle a sob. She must be silent, she _must-_

"If you're so miserable," Lucius's voice was weary with strain, "leave. Please, leave."

"No!" she replied quickly, gritting her teeth and wiping her eyes fiercely with the back of her hand. "I'm fine!"

* * *

"Bella!"

"Cissy!"

Laughing, Bellatrix swept over to her little sister and grasped her hand. "This is the first time you've been over, right? Well, Lucius might have a bigger house, but I'll bet Roddy's got a bigger-"

"Bellatrix, _control _yourself when we've got company. Although," he smirked at Lucius and kissed his wife. "I probably have."

Lucius rolled his eyes and handed his cloak to an elf. "It's wonderful to be here, Bellatrix," he retorted sarcastically. "Your warmth is touching."

"Hey, Malfoy, I bought a new broom I want to show you- Bella won't hear a word about it, but it's got the most incredible percision handling, and the speed is-"

"Silly boys and their toys," Bellatrix sang, taking Narcissa's arm. "Supper is ready and Evan's waiting-"

"Impatiently! Evan's waiting _impatiently!_" a warm voice called from the dining room as they approached. "How the hell are you, Malfoy? Hungry? Yeah, me too- these are the worst hosts you'll ever meet-"

"Oh, did you find the poison in your wine then? Damn, so close..." Bellatrix tutted in mock sorrow as she fell gracefully in her seat. "Sit by me, Cissy!" she grinned playfully.

"Where's that bloody elf? Oi," Rodolphus gave it a sharp nudge with his toe when the creature appeared. "Go get Caroline."

They all settled around the large table, chattering brightly. "So," Rodolphus was saying, "the parents are out for the evening, and I say we all get Malfoy drunk and see what he blows up this time!"

"'The parents'? You're such a child," Lucius sneered.

"They're dreadful!" Bella cried. "That's one whole room we haven't had sex in, because of them!"

"What, 'sRoddy having problems in Mummy and Daddy's room?" Evan laughed. "C'mon, you wanna get all of them, Bells? I've got not qualms-" he made as though to rise from his chair and Bella laughed, but her husband scowled.

"I've not got 'problems', ever! I-" he fell quickly silent, but smiled. "Hello, Caroline. Sorry if our yelling disturbed you- sit down, honey. By Narcissa there; do you know Narcissa? Lucius's wife, you've met him... And that brute's Evan," he nodded in Rosier's direction. Caroline nodded and smiled politely at Narcissa as she sat, but when her eyes found Evan's, a delicate flush stained her her olive conplextion. "Hello," she murmured, and Evan's lips curled into a crooked, appreciative grin. He regarded her fragile beauty with frank interest. Her dark eyes widened and dropped to the plate before her.

"I see why you've kept her hidden from me, Rodolphus," Evan purred, leaning into his chair and slinging an arm over its back, not taking his eyes from the youngest Lestrange. Narcissa glanced up to see how her brother-in-law would react.

He was staring at Evan with nothing short of loathing, the muscles of his jaw taut. "Another word, Rosier," he growled, voice constricted with fury, "and you'll never set foot in my home again.

Evan's eyebrows skidded up with surprise, and he turned to his friend with a placating gesture. "Hey, easy, you know I'm only kidding-"

"Enough!" he snarled. Bellatrix, grimacing, placed a hand over her husband's and looked to their confused and alarmed guest.

'Later,' she mouthed.

The rest of the meal, Rodolphus remained essentially silent, stabbing his food with a particular violence if Evan dared to speak to his sister. However, the conversation was pleasant and mild, and Caroline proved to be clever and charming despite her seclusion. Narcissa immediately liked the girl, although Bellatrix, while nothing but polite, seemed vaguely exasperated by her.

After they ate, Rodolphus took Lucius to see the new broom, but Evan elected to stay with the women, excluding Caroline, who excused herself to 'refreshen'.

"What the _hell,_" Rosier whispered hoarsely once he'd settled with a scotch and the two former Blacks, "was that?"

"It's Caroline," Bella rolled her eyes. "Roddy's horribly protective, should have warned you. It wasn't your fault. He never lets her out, never lets people talk to her..."

Narcissa waited, but Bellatrix mentioned nothing of the girl's illness.

"Anyway, Evan, how've you been, really? Now that we're not censored?"

They chatted for a while, but after almost twenty minutes, Rosier stood.

"Where's your loo in this ridiculous place?"

Immediately, Bella opened her mouth, but then paused. "Er... Go upstairs, third door on the left."

"Right, thanks."

As Evan left, he was still not fully satisfied by Bella's explanation. He'd known Rodolphus for a long time, and he'd known he had a sister, but his defensive reaction had been strangely out of character. He felt there was more.

Evan pushed open the door that had been described by Bella, and froze.

It was not a bathroom at all, but a bedroom he found himself in. A room with a large bed on which was sprawled a lithe, dark figure.

"Pardon me," he muttered, meaning to duck out but finding himself unable. Caroline lifted her head from the pillows, and smiled in a dreamy little way that made him thank she'd been napping. He swallowed, imagining how pleasantly warm she would feel...

"Hello," she yawned in a soft tone, indeed husky from sleep. "Why're you in here?"

"Bella must have given me the wrong directions..." Now would be the perfect time to leave. _Excuse yourself and leave._

Evan stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. "Your brother doesn't let you out much, does he?" he began conversationally.

Caroline shook her head and stretched, not seeming to find anything about his uninvited presence in her bedroom unusual. Evan watched her feminine, graceful movements hungrily.

"No. I love him dearly, but he can be such a bore. Makes life such a drag." She sighed heavily as she rose, pushing open the drapes to allow the orange, red, and pink glow of the sunset to filter in. She kept her hands on the window sill, but glanced over her shoulder to meet Evan's gaze. "I should have graduated Hogwarts last year, but he never let me go. _Insisted _I have tutors to educate me here."

He walked forwards slowly, as not to frighten her. "That's unreasonable," he said slowly, drawing up behind her. _And what... eighteen? Nineteen?_ She nodded with emphasis.

"Isn't it? Shouldn't be legal, keeping me locked up like this," she pouted, delectably, in Evan's opinion.

"Like Rapunzel," he siad quietly, grasping wildly from the recesses of his memory. A Muggle princess kept captive, with long hair. Carefully, testing her reaction, her swept the back of his hand across her waist-length, sleek black hair. His knuckles brushed down her back, and she gave an almost imperceptible shiver. Evan grinned.

"You've read Muggle books too?" she whispered, turning her face up to his.

"You have?"

She nodded, still gazing up with him with a naive sort of expectancy. "I've read everything. _Every_thing." She twitched her head to the wall behind her which, he realized with a start, was entirely composed of books, from floor to ceiling. "And those are only my favorites. I've got nothing else to do, you see."

"Poor, poor girl," he murmured, lifting the hand that had stroked her hair to cup her face tenderly. "You've been deprived, haven't you?"

"Terribly," she replied, eyes on his lips and head tilted slightly to one side. Any other course of action seeming absurd, he ducked his head to kiss her. _Just a little taste,_ he promised himself, knowing the moment their mouths met that it was no such thing.

If he'd been thinking reasonably, he would have realized that this was his best friend's little sister, and he should not be snogging her enthusiastically in her bedroom. But all he could think of was the way she'd be staring at him, as though she'd wanted from him what he wanted from her, although she didn't fully realize yet what that was. He could tell from her innocent eagerness that she'd never been kissed before, but seemed afraid of doing anything that might make him stop. Uncertainly, she placed her small hands on his chest (he felt she wasn't quite ready for him to return the gesture) and curled her fingers in the fabric of his robes. He dropped the hand that wasn't cradling her cheek to her lower back, drawing her closer as he carefully flicked his tongue against her lips, encouraging them to part. It took her a moment to understand what he wanted, but when she realized and obeyed his intention, she gave a tiny gasp of approval as he skillfully explored within. Caroline wrapped his arms around his neck as he dipped his head to her throat, eyes closed in bliss.

"Evan," she murmured, testing the feel of his name on her lips, and deciding she quite liked it there. "Evan..."

Suddenly, a rapid pounding of footsteps up the staircase caased her to stiffen. "Evan!" she squeaked in alarm. She knew that her brother was the only one in the house that made such noise. Evan lifted his head, eyes hazy with desire.

"Yes?"

She was unable to appreciate the want in his tone, not only because of Rodolphus's rapid approach, but because of the familiar, painful clutching in her heart...

Caroline staggered back, eyelids fluttering as she gasped and pressed a hand to her chest. Evan regarded her with shock- she appeared to be about to pass out.

"Here," he muttered fearfully, "here, left me help you," he took her by the waist and laid her carefully upon her mussed bed, bending over to check her breathing. "Are you alright? Are you-"

The door flew open with a _bang,_ revealing a livid Rodolphus.

"YOU!" he roared, face flushed and fists clenched. "Get out! And don't you dare come back! GO!"

"You don't understand," Evan said quickly, realizing the situation looked far worse than it actually was. His lips were still reddened from kissing, but it hadn't been anything more- but some how, as Rodolphus pulled out his wand, he felt that he wouldn't be given the opportunity to explain.

"Calm down, Rodolphus," Bellatrix warned, dashing in behind him, eyes flashing dangerously. He whriled around, looking frighteningly ready to strike her for a moment. However, he let his hand drop, and crossed the room to his immoblie sister. From the doorway, Narcissa and Lucius watched uncomfortably.

"Fuck," Rodolphus muttered, summoning a vial from what Narcissa assumed to be her bathroom. "Drink this, Caroline," he pleaded softly, lifting her head. "Evan," he continued in a louder tone, "if you're not gone when I turn around, you'll regret it."

"I think you should go," Bellatrix muttered, shooing him out.

"I'm fine," Caroline's voice was a tiny, weak thing, but she sounded angry. "Leave me, Roddy!" The reprimand was scarcely audible. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine, you're-"

"I'm fine!" she snapped. "Just a bit faint is all."

Lucius took Narcissa's arm and pulled her back gently. "I think it would be better if we went, too."

"Yes," Narcissa agreed, reaching for her wand in preparation to apparate.

"Malfoy, wait a minute," Evan appeared at Lucius's elbow as they ducked into the hallway. "You tell me right now what the fuck is going on; I'm not stupid, I know Rodolphus, and there's something else going on; she's just his little sister, I'm mean i understand he's protective, but this is madness-"

"She dying," Lucius replied bluntly. "And you _are _stupid, Rosier- you should have bloody well taken the hint and left her alone." Lucius dissapparated with a crack, and Narcissa quickly followed suit.

Lucius hurled his cloak at a elf as he stalked through the foyer and headed wordlessly towards the nursery. He gave the witch watching their son far too much money and told her to leave, checked on Draco briefly, and moved towards his own bedroom. Narcissa trotted after him, unsettled.

"Lucius, are you... alright?"

"I know that it baffles you that I express little interest in spending time with others," he began, and Narcissa nodded in agreement.

"Your sister is petty and selfish. She intentionally gave Evan the wrong directions- Caroline infuriates her, couldn't you see it? She thinks the girl is dull and she hates that Rodolphus's affections might be shared with another, even his own sister. She wants the girl out of the house or dead, anything but her prolonged, needy life.

"Evan is one of the most foolish men I've ever met- never have I once known him to think something through with his head." His lip curled distastefully. "He should have recognized that he needed to stay away from the girl. If if he didn't see that she was obviously fragile, then out of respect for Rodolphus's wishes, at the very least.

"And Rodolphus- not matter what he gives his sister, she is severely deprived- it's nothing short of crimal, the way he keeps her prisoner there. If she wants to risk her health, she should be permitted to. Rodolphus is sorely mistaken if he believes that she will not grow to resent him." He gave Narcissa a wry look. "And these are meant to be my 'friends'."

Narcissa kicked off her shoes, glanced at Lucius, and carefully straightened them. "I did wonder," she confirmed. "At school, you were this... enigma. Everyone wanted to be around you all the time, but you just... ignored them. All of them. Didn't you have any _real _friends at Hogwarts?" She tossed her pearls onto a vanity she'd chosen as hers, looked at Lucius as he placed his watched neatly in a drawer, and then flipped open her own jewelry box to put the necklace away properly. _This could quickly become tedious._

"I had little interest in befriending anyone. Why should I? Those admirers did not admire _me_; they admired my name and money. They envied my abilities. That does not make for a good relationship."

He moved over to the closet, but did not place anything within- he was already ready to sleep. Instead, he withdrew an unadorned vessel- tall and cylindrical. He closed his eyes and pressed his wand to his temple. Narcissa's eyes widened with curiosity as he removed the memory- probably of the evenings events- and placed the wispy strand into the pensieve.

He climbed into bed beside her and the room darkened with a flick of his wand. Narcissa's eyes remained open as she stared into the blackness.

A pensieve.

Lucius would be working all day tomorrow. _I wonder if_- No! No, it would be terribly rude to look at someone's memories without permission. A major violation of trust. Completely and entirely out of the question. No. No.

But...

It would be _so _wonderful to figure out more about her distanat husband! Perhaps if she could understand him, she would even grow to like him some day. If she could understand what made him the way he was... And he would never know...

* * *

(A/N: I was getting some questions about Caroline due to my discontinued Bellarix/Rodolphus series, so this chapter focuses on her, as you may have noticed. But I promise, it'll be back to Lucius and Cissy- I suppose you may have guessed what the next chapter will be about. AND another thing- if some of you are frowning about the rather rushed timeline, I am sorry, but Mort needed to fall in love now so other plot devices can fit in before Voldemort falls. Good stuff, I promise, but if things that usually would have taken longer seem brief, I apologize, but I need to get them in before Roddy, Rabastan and Bella end up in prison, and Evan is dead.)


	22. Chapter 22

Narcissa woke when Lucius did the next morning at six, and waited impatiently while he showered and dressed. He emerged from the bathroom and she quickly shut her eyes as he finished preparing for the day.

"I'm going into London today," he annouced and Narcissa twitched.

"How did you know I was awake?" she demanded, scowling.

"Practice not clenching your eyes and try not lying like a board. Holding your breath doesn't help either."

"Fine. When will you be back?"

"Supper time, probably." He glanced at his watch. "I still have a while yet- I'll feed Draco and you can go back to pretending to sleep."

She glared at him, but when he looked up at her, despite the serious set of his expression, his eyes had that humorous spark. _He's teasing me_, she realized in surprise. "Alright then," she replied. "Have, erm, a lovely day." Goodness, but that felt awkward to say. Perhaps she would just stick to 'goodbye' from now on.

She waited until she heard the apparation that indicated his departure before springing up and rushing to the closet. With a deep breath, she yanked open the door-

A wail peirced the silence, and she leapt about a foot in the air, whipping her head around fighting panic before realizing that it was the neglected cry of her very spoiled son that had disturbed her. She rushed to his bedroom to find him pouting and whining, furious that he had not yet been paid attention to by both parents.

"Oh, darling," she sighed, scooping him up. "You scared Mummy. Not that Mummy was doing anything wrong- startled, I should say. You startled Mummy. Never mind that. What would you like to do today?"

It was eleven before Draco's tranlucent lavender eyelids began to droop, and she carried him quickly to his crib and hummed softly and absently until he fell asleep. Rapidly, Narcissa tiptoed back to her new bedroom, and returned to the open closet.

"Alright," she sighed, quickly locating the pensieve and placing it gently on her vanity. She was nervous, but also unspeakably excited. She was certain that she was about to unlock the secrets of her odd, distant husband. Leaning forwards, she felt herself tipping into the swirling past.

* * *

She was back inside the Malfoy Manor. Pattering footfalls alerted her to another, and she turned to spot a tiny, determined little boy toddling by with a huge parcel in his arms. When Narcissa recognized him as Lucius, she laughed out loud. His round, babyish face was pink with exertion, and his steps were quick and unsteady. The package he held was at least three times his small width, and blocked his view entirely. He stumbled down the corridor, bumping into end tables and disgruntling portraits. She grinned at his adorable antics, but the smile soon turned to an expression of horror- he was headed directly for a staircase, entirely unaware in his concentration. Forgetting where she was, she cried out a warning, but of course, he did not hear her- he missed the first step, and, with a heartwrenching cry of alarm, he pitched forward, tumbling down the uncarpeted stairs. At each painful, jarring crash, he gave a mournful little wail, collasping in a heap at the bottom and shuddering with sobs. Narcissa dashed after him, wishing to hold the poor baby, waiting with indignant impatience as she heard the slow, steady, clip of heels on the floor approaching. Aethel appeared, unfazed, and looked down at him coldly.

"Lucius,"

He lifted his head and raised his arms pathetically to his mother, lower lip trembling.

"You've been snooping for your birthday presents- I see you've found one, too. Stretch out your legs," she commanded, and he obeyed slowly, whimpering.

"Nothing's broken... But you've a nasty bruise on your head. Wiggy," A house elf appeared quickly. "Go get dittany and check for any other injuries. He's not badly hurt." She turned to leave. "You may open it if you'd like, Lucius. Was it worth it?"

"Mummy!" he wailed. He didn't want a salve for his pain- he wanted to held by his mother.

"Don't cry," she snapped. "You're a little man, and men don't cry. Ever. You must learn that."

"It hurts," he moaned, curling up tightly as fat tears rolled down his cheeks.

"You mustn't let it show."

Heavier footfalls sounded, signaling another's approach. "What seems to be the problem here?"

Abraxas's voice was warm. Easy. Unconcerned.

"Papa," Lucius turned, deperately seeking another venue of care.

"Had a little spill, have you son?" he asked, crouching down beside him. "Here," he took the little hands in his larger one and, despite Lucius's gasps of protest, hauled him to his feet. "There, alright then?"

Despairingly, he shook his head. Abraxas frowned. "Dry those tears. You hear me? You're fine. Don't cry."

The scene began to fade, but she knew instinctively, as much knowledge was garnered inside pensieves, that not much time had passed. But they were still at the Manor, outside now, on a stone patio that was set into a rather steep hill. One side of it flowed smoothly from the ground, and on the other, there was a sizeable drop, the only guard some beautiful potted plants. Aethel sat chatting with a lovely woman who Narcissa recognized after a moment as Bella's mother-in-law, Melvia Lestrange. They were laughing and sipping tea, and Lucius sat between them, looking intensly bored- a small scowl marred his childish face, and his lower lip protruded into a pout so endearing, Narcissa wasn't even sure that Draco would be able to replicate it with such effectivenss. But the women were ignoring him, gossiping about something or another- because Lucius could not remember the conversation, their words were fuzzy and indistinct. His chin rested on the table as he quietly sulked; clearly, he wished to be elsewhere. Suddenly, he jerked up, eyes wide- It took Narcissa a moment to see what had caught his attention. A vibrantly colored butterfly fluttered just overhead, and Lucius watched it with lively, curious eyes. He wanted that butterfly.

Carefully, he slid out of the chair; neither woman paid him any mind. Meanwhile, the bright insect was drifting lazily towards the opposite end of the patio. Lucius zeroed in on it, never taking his eyes off his goal. With a sick feeling in her gut, Narcissa realized what was going to happen, and bit her lip to keep from shouting another useless warning. Little Lucius plod determinedly after it as it flew nearer to the drop off, not checking his ground. As he approached the plants, Narcissa closed her eyes, but still jumped at the crash of the heavy pot being tipped over, and, undoubtedly, Lucius tumbling after it. Melvia gave a startled gasp and leapt up, but Narcissa got to the edge first. Lucius had fallen the two meters, and the thick clay urn had landed on he leg- a leg that Narcissa knew it took no healing expertise to see was broken. At first, he seemed too stunned to cry, but then his face crumpled, and he began to shake. He gasped for air, and looked ready to bawl... but somehow, did not. He pressed a tiny, dirty hand to his mouth and she saw him bite his palm to keep from screaming- watching his memory, she could almost feel the unbearable, sickly, stabbing pain of the broken bone. Aethel appeared at his side, having come down the steps, and frowned.

"Oh, my, yes, certainly broken... I must get him to St. Mungo's. Wiggy, go get the master. Lucius, you must keep very still."

Lucius's hands had balled into fists, his jaw was tight and his eyes were clenched shut. He held his breath, still doing everything in his power not to scream.

"Aethel, is everything alright? Aethel?"

"Down here, Abraxas. Lucius fell and needs to go to the hospital."

Narcissa realized that Melvia have vanished- Lucius could not remember where she had gone or what she had been doing, and so was eliminated from the memory.

There was a flash, and they stood in the foyer of St. Mungo's. A large tear seeped from beneath his eyelid, and Lucius rubbed it away quickly, checking guiltily to see if his father had noticed. The healing process was quick and indistinct; after Lucius was given a potion to ease the pain, the memory became dull and indistinct- it ended with Abraxas praising Lucius for his good behavior, and offering to buy him a new broom.

The next series of memories were repetitve and short. They all involved Mrs. Malfoy, Lucius, and his sisters greeting Abraxas after his workday. Abraxas would always kiss his wife first, sweep his two daughters up, toss them up in the air amid giggles, and hold them close, but Lucius- Lucius who watched with wide, excited eyes, awaiting his turn, would get nothing but a warm 'hello', and sometimes a playful handshake or hair ruffle. As these nearly identical scenes whirled by again and again, Narcissa realized at last what they meant.

It was well known that children, in order to develop properly, needed frequent attention and physical contact. Lucius, as a child, had been given every material posession imaginable by his parents, but from his birth, he'd been trained to be the Malfoy heir. He'd excel at what his parents wanted him to, such as school and business workings, and he would hold an esteemed position at the Ministry, but his own father wouldn't even hug him.

In the next memory, it was night time, and Lucius, several years older now, probably about five now, woke with a start as his bedroom door creaked open. Terentia stood in the doorway, clutching a stuffed unicorn. Her blonde hair was in braids, and she looked decidedly miserable.

"Lucius," she whined, clamoring into bed bedside him without permission. Not touching him, but still stealing his blankets. "I had the most dreadful dream. It was dark, and there were all these monsters creeping about, green and slimy with fangs! They would jump out and chase me and try to eat me! They hid in closets and drawers, waiting for unsuspecting children to prey on- oh Lucius, it was terrible! I can't tell Mummy, because she doesn't like being disturbed because she's got the new baby inside of her, but you'll protect me, right?"

Within moments, Terentia had drifted off. To an adult, the nightmare was ridiculous- to five year old Lucius, it was horrifying. He lay with his eyes wide open, breathing quick and uneven. His eyes darted at each imagined noise and he craned his neck, looking about to see if anything lurked in the blackness. However, he did not dare light a candle nor reawaken his sister- he took it as his duty to be the one frightened, and to bear it in silence, although Narcissa was sure he resented her for the intrusion.

When the scene changed, there was still darkness- but they stood in a hallway, now. Lucius was hovering guiltily outside a door which stood ajar. He glanced left, right, and left again before slipping into the room. Narcissa followed, recognizing the room as the nursery in which Draco currently napped. The same crib was there, an it was this that Lucius silently approached. He peeked over the edge with caution, and Narcissa did the same.

A tiny child, no doubt Beatrice, lay peacefully, wide gray eyes set on a nondistinct point somewhere above. However, when she spotted her brother, she grinned, and extended an arm. Tentatively, he reached out as well, and she curled her minute finger around his larger one, blinking happily up at him. Immediately, his nervousness fled, and he smiled as well. Narcissa saw that he had finally found another human being to love that seemed to already love him back.

A house elf appeared, and Lucius hopped down, but did not go far. The creature took Beatrice in one arm and a bottle in the other and began to feed the infant. Lucius frowned.

"Give her to me," he commanded, his voice surprisingly authoritative, even at such an early age.

"Master, I must be feeding-"

"I'll do it." He sat down on a winged chair far too large for him and held out his arms. "Give'er. And the bottle, too."

"Master, I-"

"Now!"

With a squeak, the elf obeyed, and scampered off. Smiling, Lucius carefully mimicked what he'd seen her caretaker do, and Tricey gurgeled with delight...

He was much older in the next memory, just before the start of his first term at Hogwarts. His eyes were dark and unhappy as his father lectured him.

"...be in Slytherin, of course; that's not what concerns me. You must make friends only with the proper sort- I won't have you gallavanting with mudbloods and the like. It's bad enough that they're accepted into the school. If you need anything, ask Horace Slughorn; he's an old friend, and he'll be your head of house. This is your first and easiest year- remember that. I want you to have top grades, Lucius. It simply won't do if those of lesser breeding outshine you in academics. Do not let anyone criticize you; you are superior. You are a Malfoy first and foremost- don't forget it. Now, I understand that you won't be able to play Quidditch until next year, but make sure to find out who the captain is and stay on good terms with him." He paused. "Anything else?"

"Who'll I sit with on the train? Adina's left and Terentia says she won't be seen with me," Lucius asked uncertainly.

"See if you can't find some other Slytherins. The oldest Lestrange should be there, and the Black too-"

"But they're older, they won't want to sit with me either!"

"Silence, Lucius. It would be better you sit by yourself than someone who ends up in Hufflepuff. Your trunk is packed? Good- off to the station then, your mother is waiting."

When Lucius stepped out of the study, Beatrice was waiting impatiently, bouncing from one foot to the other. "Oh, Lucius!" She flung her arms around him. "Don't leave me!"'

"Tricey," he hugged her back, brow creased. "You'll be fine. Promise. I'll see you at Christmas any how,"

"But that's so far off!" she cried. He patted her blonde hair in gentle reassurance.

"I'll write, I promise."

Beatrice bobbed her head tearfully but scampered off as Aethel approached with Terentia. "Ready to go?" Without waiting for a reply, she took his hand and apparated. They arrived at the Platform, and Narcissa smiled at the nostalgia that swamped her. Such happy memories of her own were here. Lucius took his trunk from the elf, and glanced up at his mother to see if she would offer him any affection of comfort- he was practically trembling with nerves. However, she merely nodded him in the direction of the train, bid him well, gave Terentia a peck on the cheek, and disapparated. Instantly, Terentia darted off, waving to a friend. Lucius glanced around nervously, heading uncertainly in the same direction. Narcissa watched him curiously as he searched for a compartment. He _appeared _composed and clam, but, through his memory, she could feel his stress. At last, he located an empty place to sit, stowed his trunk and closed the door. However, soon after he sat, it was flung back open.

"Hey mate,"

Narcissa heat leapt into her throat, because hanging in the door way was a bright-eyed, shaggy-haired eleven year old with a smile she would always keep in her heart.

_Mort. _

His dark blue eyes shone with excitement, and a pale, jittery Rabastan hovered behind him. _They were so little!_

"Can we sit with you, then? Not much room anywhere else." He waited expectantly.

Lucius _wanted _to say yes. Desperately, he wanted to say yes, and make friends, at least have company on the long ride, but... he didn't know these boys. His father had said it would be better to sit by himself; but perhaps these boys would end up in Slytherin too? And if not, he didn't have to talk to them again... But if Abraxas found out, he would certainly be angry...

Slowly, regretfully, he shook his head. Rodtimer seemed taken aback, and more than a little offended. "Well." He didn't seem to know what to say. "I guess- I guess we'll... just... sit somewhere else then."

He stalked off with Rabastan in tow, and Lucius slumped in disappointment.

Next, there was a series of images, a blur of memories. Lucius was sorted immediately into Slytherin, but when Mort was too, he gave Lucius a dirty look before sitting as far away as possible from him. Lucius's dormmates were impressed by his expensive belongings, and slightly in awe of his name, but none seemed taken by Lucius personally. Soon, his intellectual and magical ability set him apart as well, and within months, he was widely respected. Peers seemed to fear him, and even his elders never taunted or harassed him. But no one seemed to have much interest in befriending him.

By the end of his first year, he'd already begun to become the superior enigma that she would remember from her school days. However, the difference she saw now was that was not entirely what he wanted.

The next memory was on the Hogwarts Express once more, at the start of his second year. Lucius sat alone again, trunk tucked away and legs flung carelessly on to the opposite seat. Already, his youthful face was begining to harden, and the childish warmth and openness was all but erased. He did not look out the window to wave as many other students did, instead withdrawing a worn-looking book. He glanced up as the door slid open. With a start, Narcissa recognized herself. She hardly remembered being so tiny. Come to think of it, she didn't really remember her first train ride. She vaguely recalled being unable to find Bella, and reading a book instead.

_Narcissa Black._

The sudden excitement in the memory surprised her, though his face didn't reflect his eagerness. But he knew who she was, knew that she was a Black, a respectable girl, one that would certainly be in Slytherin. She was a first year- he could show her around, tell her about the classes and professors... He dropped his feet to the floor, making space for her to sit where ever she liked.

_Hopefully next to me. She's so pretty. _

The innocent, happy thought startled her. Had he really thought that, so long ago?

"Sorry," she muttered, frowning, but recognizing his Slytherin badge. "Have you seen my sister? Bellatrix Black? She's a fifth year."

Lucius shook his head. "I haven't. But... you can sit in here. If you want," he added quickly. Narcissa saw herself scowl.

"I suppose." She lugged her trunk in behind her, and Lucius sprang to his feet to help her lift it into the overhead rack. "Thanks," she sighed, and plopped down in the opposite corner. Lucius subtly shifted into the seat across from her as she pulled out her own book.

"What are you reading?" he asked.

"_Hogwarts, A History,_" she replied dampeningly. She didn't look up from the pages.

"I've read that, too," he pressed on with waning optimism. "It's quite interesting, don't you think?"

"Hm."

He didn't attempt to engage her again in conversation, but kept sneaking glances at her. Narcissa saw that her eleven year old self didn't spare him a second look.

The memories began to grow further in between, but they all began to have the same taste- heavy, monotonous... lonely.

He was in Abraxas's study, waiting with a dicernably tense set to his broadening shoulders. He was well into his third year, and Abraxas was checking his grades.

"Very good, Lucius, and your Quidditch record is admirable as well. However, one thing still concerns me."

"Yes, father?" he asked flatly.

"You should show a bit more interest in the girls in your year. I worry people will start thinking you're some sort of queer if you don't step out once in a while."

Behind his back, Lucius's fists clenched. _Still have Slughorn watching me pretty closely, don't you? _"I assumed it would be futile. Are you not planning to choose a wife for me?"

"Of course, but you still have a reputation to maintain until then. Go on," he waved him casually away, "your sister missed you."

The scene faded, and Lucius was back at Hogwarts, in the Slytherin common room. Watching. Priscilla Gamp and several other girls were giggling by the fire, but Prissy kept glancing back over her shoulder at Lucius, blushing, and looking away. Eventually, Lucius stood and headed over.

"Priscilla?" he asked in a distinctly detached voice, "May I speak to you for a moment?"

He didn't want to ask her to Hogsmeade, but he did. And they went- she chattered brightly and nervously the entire time, and at the end, he kissed her. And then it was over. The next Hogsmeade trip, he asked Vanessa Crouch. The cycle repeated. Then it was Ursula Prewett. Then Renee Flint, Elladora Rosier, Ariel McMillan... and on and on through nearly ever girl Narcissa had known during Hogwarts. Just once, no exceptions. At the end, he always kissed them, no matter how miserable the date had been. He liked kissing. As a child, he'd been deprived of physical contact- he liked feeling wanted. He liked how soft and sweetly fragile they felt when they wrapped their arms around his neck. But he didn't do any thing more, not even when he wanted to. He couldn't feel obligated towards these girls, not when he knew his father would pick someone out.

When the scene faded, it did not immediately relight. It took Narcissa a moment to realized that this memory was at night. They were outside, but there was no moon, no stars. And Lucius was running. His heart was pounding as adrenaline flooded his system; he sprinted along through the semi-blackness, scanning the surrounding area as he moved. A rustle off to the side, and panting, high gasps- the woman. Not his goal. He flung out his wand, and the woman dropped in a flash of green light. Narcissa's confusion melted into terror and her hand flew to her mouth, stifling a scream. But he wasn't finished. His target was within reach, almost. Surely he'd be getting tired. Lucius increased his pace, the years of hard Quidditch training coming in handy. _There._ The fool thought he could hide. Lucius leapt forward and curled his hand around the other's throat, slamming him effortlessly into the rough bark of the tree. Narcissa gasped, but found herself unable to look away.

"_Fenwick," _he snarled, grip tightening as the other man began to struggle.

"I know... _nothing_!" Fenwick gasped, eyes darting with terror.

"Liar," Lucius hissed, drawing his wand from his pocket. "Now, how would you like to do this? You could give me the names, and a simple charm could allievate your memory of this entire incident," A lie, "_or,_ you can give me the names once I've broken your mind through torture. Which would you prefer?" An unveiled threat. Quiet, light; as though Lucius truly didn't care which one he chose.

"No!" He was sweating now, his breathing rapid. Lucius, in comparison, look quite calm. Narcissa shuddered.

"Very well, then." He stepped back, and the man called Fenwick looked hopeful for a split second, as though this was his chance to escape. "_Crucio."_

Narcissa shied away from his screams, unable to block the sound though she averted her eyes. Lucius appeared coldly disinterested as he flicked his wand, drawing an agonized shriek from his victim. She wanted to beg him to stop, as the writhing man was doing, but even if he _had_ been been able to hear her, she could not speak.

"Malfoy," neither had heard the pop of apparation, but there was now another cloaked figure. "Anything?" the voice of a woman, warm and excited. Horribly familiar.

"I'm afraid not. I've killed the woman-" a whimper from the prone figure- "but he won't reveal any more Pheonix members."

"You've done well, Lucius," Bellatrix purred, sildling up beside him and staring at Fenwick with glittering eyes. "Very well. I'll tell him- you'll earn your mark for finding him, even useless as he's turned out to be- he's still one fewer mudblood fighting against our cause." She stepped between the two men. "I'll take it from here."

Lucius nodded, and disapparated.

Narcissa closed her eyes, taking deep, shuddering breaths. Did she really want to continue? See more of that? She'd read of Death Eater crimes before, but to actually witness the torture...! So many of the people she loved were involved, too. But she had wanted to know, hadn't she? Narcissa opened her eyes to take in the next scene.

It was night again. They were standing on a hill somewhere, a ring of mostly men, illuminated by a ghostly green flame in the center of the circle. But they were still somewhat relaxed, talking softly amongst themselves, perhaps to cover nervousness. They were all masked, but Narcissa could recognize the voice of her brother-in-law speaking to Lucius.

"Cutting shool, are you?" he teased quietly, subtly mocking Lucius for his young age.

"A Quidditch game, actually," he replied, unruffled. "But I'm sure the team will manage. There are more important things."

"Obviously," Rodolphus agreed. Suddenly, a hush fell over the crowd, and Lucius felt a sickening jolt of mingled excitement and fear in the pit of his stomach. _This is it._

Narcissa fought the urge to hide- this was a memory, and she was not truly there- but she felt as though the cruel, red eyes of the Dark lord were staring directly at her.

"Welcome." His voice was cold and haunting, and he began to move slowly aroung the circle. It was not large- Narcissa counted less than fifteen people. As he walked by, each person dropped into a bow, muttering 'my lord'- all but one.

"My _lord,_" whispered a breathy, reverent voice. Its owner fell into a deep curtsey, and when she arose, Narcissa was certain it was her sister. Voldemort gave a chilly smile, and touched her chin with the tip of his finger. She visibly shuddered in delight, but the hood of her cloak hid her face.

"My dear Bella," he purred. Narcissa glanced over to check Rodolphus's reaction to his wife's behavior- but his expression was impassive. That was odd; Rodolphus was fiercely proud, and she wouldn't imagine that he would approve of Bella's wanton actions. Strange he didn't care, especially when-

Oh. Well, he hadn't actually met her yet, had he?

By the time he reached Lucius, his walk around the circle was almost complete. "Young Lucius," he nodded. "I see no reason to postpone the night's events."

He did not ask if Lucius was ready, nor if he wished to join their ranks- that decision had already been made. Narcissa shivered at the inhuman features as he steped back, slowly, until he stood across on the opposite side of the fire. Lucius heart was pounding thunderously in the memory, but certainly no one else could tell- his face was an impassive mask as he took only a few steps forward, facing the Dark lord across the flickering emerald flames. With careful, steady movements, Lucius pushed back the sleeve of his robe, leaving his left forearm clean and bare. Narcissa stared at the white flesh, mildly fascinated by its unscarred state. There were no words spoken- the bonds were understood. No Unbreakable Vows were made; if a servant failed, he or she would be punished personally.

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, as the papers were beginning to name the nightmarish wizard, dipped his wand into the flagration. He lifted it, bringing licking green sparks along with it. His red eyes gleamed and he watched Lucius carefully, as he slowly lowered thet wand to his skin.

_It hurt._ Much more than he'd expected, and his breath caught in his throat. However, he was aware of each set of eyes fastened closely upon him, checking his reaction, and so he grit his teeth and focused on keeping his expression blank. It was a deep, searing pain; he could actually smell his flesh burning. His fist clenched involuntarily, but he stared impassively at his arm. It wasn't quite as bad as the Cruciatius, but different; a permanent, enduring, tangible mark, rather than the manipulation of the mind. Inky tendrils curled agonizingly from the spot where the wand touched his skin, twisting and wrapping to form the signature skull and snake of the Death Eaters. Finally, the scalding subsided, and his new master looked up at him with a horrible smile.

"Welcome."

As the scene began to melt away, she fervently hoped the next would have nothing to do with his Death Eater activities. Her wish was granted- they were in the Manor, and Terentia was tugging his sleeve, looking up at him imploringly.

"_Please_ Lucius, she likes you! Just one lunch and I'm sure she'll be content. You may even have a bit of fun! Say yes, please?"

Lucius sighed. "Fine. One lunch. In a very public place."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded. Lucius was not moved by her angry tone.

"Well Terentia, I think your friend is crazy," he explained, quite calmly.

"That's awful of you!" she cried. "Everyone loves Chels, you know? You're _lucky _that she wants to go out with you."

"I'm getting married, remember?"

Terentia gave a little shrugh, as though that fact didn't matter. "In what, seven, eight months?"

Lucius sighed, ducking his head pinching the the bridge of his nose. "If I go, will she leave me alone?"

"Er... Sure. If you still think that's what you want, afterwards. Oh, there's the door! Are you ready to go?"

Lucius's eyes snapped open. "What do you mean? She's already here?"

"I knew you'd say yes! Chels, come on in!"

Chelsea was pretty. Her skin was pale, and her face was round and sweet. She had bright green eyes and thick curls that bounced gaily with each step she took.

"Tia!" she cooed, hugging her friend before turning to Lucius and smiling up at him through her lashes. "Shall we go then?"

While Chelsea was turned away, Lucius threw his sister a murderous glare.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Lucius scowled.

"I've never been here before. And this is a primarily residential area. Wouldn't you prefer to go somewhere a bit more..." _Populated? Public? Safe?_ "Formal? I'd be happy to pay, obviously."

"No! This is such a cute, private little cafe. Come on!" she chirped, tugging his arm as she lead towards the door. Lucius ground his teeth and followed her inside, where they were quickly seated and served drinks.

"Is there no menu?" he drawled distainfully, quirking his eyebrow at Chelsea as she propped her chin on her hand and smiled innocently. _How grossly common and classless,_ he silently deemed the motion.

"Oh, I'm sure there are..." she drifted off, and he took a quick sip of his beverage in order to be saved the duty of replying. He noted vaguely that her mild grin had transformed into a delighted smirk, but was far more preoccupied with the fact that his drink was, sadly, not alcoholic. However, he could not quite place the taste.

"What exactly is this..." Suddenly, it didn't matter, because he's just caught sight of her elbow, still resting on the linen table cloth. The most wonderful elbow he'd ever seen in his entire life. And it was attached to the most luxurious, creamy arm, and that hand- his breath hitched in his chest. Her slim fingers, tiny and soft, cradled a rosy, silken cheek, which he ached to stroke. _"Ah, that I were a glove upon that hand!" _He wasn't sure from whence the errant quote came, but he didn't care. And her eyes-

"_Chelsea,_" he choked, still scarcely able to breathe. She was beauty personified. He could not believe his luck at being permitted to sit in her presence. Lucius longed to touch her, but didn't dare. He could only gaze at her, entirely captivated. Narcissa marveled at the tangible shift of the memory.

"Lucius, darling," she purred, and he reeled at the melodious sound of her voice. "Are we ready to go?" She stood and he immediately followed suit, smashing his knee on the table as he did so due to an inability to take his eyes from her flawless face. He scarcely felt it.

"Anywhere," he replied, tracing her graceful movements as he trailed along.

"I live right across the street. That's why I picked that place."

"Wonderful," he echoed vaguely, preoccupied by her glossy ringlets, and how they caught the light. He followed her up a flight of stairs and into a smallish flat. Once they were inside, Chelsea flung the keys as side and dragged Lucius close for a kiss. He eagerly wrapped his arms around her, returning the kiss with an enthusiam he'd never before shown, nor felt.

"Now you," she drew back, eyes gleaming wickedly, "are going to spoil me. I know you must know exactly how-"

"But, my angel!" he interrupted with a worried look. "How can I know?"

She rolled her eyes, giggling as she ran one finger down his chest. "Don't act coy; I saw you at Hogwarts, and I _know _you must have been with half the bloody school- but now it's _my _turn."

"But dearest, you are my one and only, my-"

"Yes, I know, _now,_"

"No! Ever! There's never been anyone before, nor will there be anyone after you!" he promised passionately. She scowled as his words began to sink in.

"You mean... you're a _virgin?_" she asked disgustedly. Lucius nodded with wide eyes, deeply upset by her frown. She gave a little frustrated cry, and pushed him away. In a pathetic act of desperation, he whimpered.

"Oh..." she grumbled irritably, "What the hell." Chelsea turned back. "I hope you're a bloody quick learner." With a sigh, she kissed him once more.

Narcissa did not let the full scene play out- It was not one she particularly cared to witness. Closing her eyes, she sought a memory that included her.

Her intereference caused a retrograde motion- they were back at Hogwarts, in the library. Lucius was watching her carefully. Narcissa saw herself slouched lazily over a book- something she wouldn't dare in the presence of her mother.

_Does she know? _Lucius tried to ignore the clench in his gut. He'd always liked the youngest Black girl- she was charming and frankly beautiful, and he had observed her to be far less chattery than the other girls in her year. But somehow her wide blue eyes, which so often sparkled with laughter, especially around Rodtimer, seemed fearful when she regaded Lucius. And try as he might, he could not help but to recall the initial swoop of excitement when he read his father's owl announcing their upcoming marriage. But immediately, reality reminded him that she was not truly his to marry.

He approached cautiously and hovered undecidedly behind her chair for a moment. Suddenly, her hand swung back and skated playfully and affectionately across his abdomen. His stomach flipped at the unexpected touch.

"I know you're there!" Narcissa saw herself exclaim, and turn around. By now, she remembered the incident.

"Oh! I'm so, _so_ sorry! I didn't realize, I thought you were Mort… Please excuse me! I- erm, can I help you with something?"

So she didn't know. Lucius regarded her carefully, instantly aware of how uncomfortable he made her. _Should I tell her?_ No. Obviously not. She should hear it from someone she cared for. _She'll be so upset._

Immediately, Lucius felt guilty. "Never mind," he muttered at last, turning abruptly and striding off before she could see his confusion.

_I have to go,_ she realized suddenly. The real world was still out there, and Draco would be waking up soon. _One more._

The final memory was dark, and for a moment, Narcissa feared that it would be another Death Eater mission. But once her eyes adjusted, she recognized her own bedroom in the Malfoy Manor, or what _had_ been hers until she'd decided to move in with Lucius. The first thing she heard was a scarcely muffled sobbing, and realized that this must be their wedding night, for Lucius lay beside her.

Forcing back her own dreadful recollections of the night, she tried to focus on Lucius. Her crying was much louder than she'd thought it had been, and she crept nearer to see Lucius's face. Even without the added tenor of his memory, Narcissa would have easily recognized the emotions splayed across his face.

His jaw was clenched painfully, and his regular breathing was a struggle. He stared at the ceiling with an agonized gaze, and each time he stole a glance at his new wife, a crippling sense of self-loathing washed over him. A particularly violent shudder wracked Narcissa, and he began to reach out to her, but he couldn't. His hand curled into a fist as he pulled it back, beyond frustrated with his own ineptness. He was unable to comfort her- he was the source of her misery. But he wanted so, _so _badly to touch her, if only she hadn't asked him not to! His gut twisted uncomfortably-he despised himself for making her cry. Narcissa was, by nature, a loving person- he'd seen countless demonstrations of this, though never towards him, her husband. But she clearly could not love, like, or even _tolerate_ him- was there something so flawed within his innate self that _no one _could love him? His parents and older sisters certainly hadn't, and he was all Tricey had- she didn't truly _choose _to care for him, there were just no others. But his wife? His own wife? He wanted her to love him. It was not against her nature. _What's so wrong with me, then?_ It was true he was not her beloved Yaxley- but could she hate him only for that? Certainly not to the extent that she did. He'd planned to change things tonight, to hold and kiss her, finally allow himself to relax, just a bit, to perhaps have both a lover and a friend.

A tremble rippled across the matress, and Lucius again stared longingly across the wide gap she had created. He open his mouth- but would could he say?

Suddenly, Narcissa watched herself bolt upright and stumble across the room, searching blindly for the bathroom. When her pensieve-self finally located it, she quickly vanished inside. Still, her helpless sobbing was clearly audible.

_She hates me._ He disgusted her and she evidently could not even pretend to hide it; and he so wanted her to be happy! But he'd hurt her, humiliated her, forced her against her will- but he had not wanted to! He hadn't been given any more choice than she! Again, his stomach wrenched- he was going to be sick.

He darted up and hurried back into his own bedroom, closing the door behind him just in time to empty the wedding meal he'd just consumed onto the rich rug. But he wasn't finished- he rushed into the bathroom and heaved, doubled over the toilet, until he was entirely empty on the inside.

Narcissa pulled herself from the memories at last, stumbling as vertigo swept over her. She was back in the present, and a sleeply little whining cry indicated that Draco had just woken up.

* * *

It was later than supper time when Lucius returned home. Their son was already asleep for the night (or as much as the night that he would sleep through before demanding once more to be fed), and Narcissa waited up in a cozy armchair in the bedroom. She was beginning to grow impatient, flipping dully through the pages of _Moste Potente Potions, _when the door flung open. Eagerly, she hopped up to greet him, but paused when she saw the look on his face.

"Lucius, what-"

"You swore that we would be honest with each other," he snarled, eyes flashing. Immediately, she froze.

He couldn't know. He couldn't possibly know. There was no way he-

"Look, Lucius, I can explain-"

"What's there to explain? I always knew you didn't want _me_, but to lie about our son?"

"I..." she stared at him, baffled. What was he talking about?

"And what? Did you think I wouldn't eventually find out? You said you were staying for him- but you lied. You were embarassed, weren't you?"

"What are you _talking _about?" she cried at last, frustration bubbling over.

"This!" he snapped, thrusting a paper in her face. She snatched it away with a glare before looking down at the page. It appeared to be a section of the Daily Prophet. She skimmed over the words, until her eyes fell on a familar name. Her heart flipped instinctively, but began to sink as she read further down. It was a marriage announcement, of Rodtimer Yaxley and Jennifer Crouch.

"He turned you down, didn't he? You would have left Draco. You didn't want to... come back here."

Narcissa bristled at his cold tone, but forced herself to look closer first. She wished she was still in the pensieve- she prefered hearing his thoughts, but concentrated on his expression. That aloof mask that she so despised had settled over his features. However, she knew now that that look didn't mean he was heartless; rather, it was his way of disguising pain. He was in pain.

Suddenly, Narcissa didn't see her cold husband anymore. She saw a young, lonely little boy, trying desperately to hide his hurt because he'd been taught that it was wrong to feel. He'd become excellent at it, but she new what that impassive expression meant now. He was angry, yes, but that wasn't why he was so upset.

"Lucius," she sighed, moving forward carefully. He regarded his with uncertain wariness, remaining still until she was immediately before him. "Yes. That's why I came back. I did lie."

He had been prepared for a denial; he had no response to blatant honesty. She hadn't wanted him to. Carefully, she lifted one hand and placed it softtly to the back of his neck, hooking her arm over his shoulder. He twitched at the unexpected contact, but before he could step away, as she feared he intended to, Narcissa wrapped her other arm around his back.

He felt different than Mort. He was taller, for one thing; she could happily tuck her head beneath Rodtimer's chin, but she could only lay her cheek on Lucius's chest. His shoulders were broader, too, and he felt... harder. Mort had been fit, but Lucius's frame wordlessly announced his physical power. He also held himself more rigidly, as though unsure how to respond to the embrace.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured, and she was. Not just for lying, but for being blind for far too long. For blaming him for something he'd had no choice in. For not understanding. For not trying to. For everything; even what she'd had no control over. She was sorry he'd been neglected and sorry that he was lonely. Most of all, she was sorry that she did not love him.

But she would try.

Slowly, tenatively, as if he was worried that he might frighten her off, Lucius placed his right hand on the small of her back. When she still did not move away, he curled his left arm around her waist, gently pulling her close.


	23. Chapter 23

Narcissa wasn't sure how long they stood like that. It didn't become uncomfortable, as she feared the long silence might, but a sudden, magically amplified knocking at the entry door caused them to jump apart.

"It's far too late for visitors," Narcissa said blankly. Lucius was already on his way out of the bedroom, wand in hand. It hardly mattered; their guest had no intention of waiting to be invited in.

"Cissy! Lucius! You are the _worst _hosts, I swear-"

"Bella!" Narcissa cried, delighted at the surprise.

"Bellatrix," Lucius ground out, not bothering to hide his irritation.

"_Fabulous _to see you too," she replied, shooting Lucius a smirk as she hugged her sister briefly.

"What do you want, Bella?" he snapped, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning against the banister.

"Bella!" Narcissa gasped suddenly. "What happened to your face?"

Slowly, Bella pursed her lips and raised her brows, eyes staring innocently at some indistinct point on the vaulted ceiling as she lifted her fingertips to the colorful bruise on her cheek.

"Oh _this_? Yes, Roddy hit me, so I thought I might stay with you two for a while?" She looked at them with a casual little smile. "If that's not a problem?"

Narcissa's jaw was slack with horrified disbelief, and even Lucius's previously hard gaze had melted with shock.

"You- your're joking! You two were so...so right for each other! You were happy! What happened?"

"Oh," Bellatrix shrugged and linked arms with Narcissa as they headed towards a spare bedroom. "You know, he's got just the worst temper. I just did some teeny, tiny little thing that _apparently _he didn't like too much..."

"That's dreadful! Oh, Bella, I'm so sorry. What will you do now?"

As the two women disappeared from sight, Lucius frowned. Something was not right. Rodolphus was, without a doubt, one of the most violent men he'd ever met, but he couldn't imagine him hitting his wife. Maybe they'd hurl a few intentionally-poorly aimed hexes at the other, but there was something terribly crude, and decidedly Muggle, about striking a woman. It was not like his friend.

Suddenly, the door burst open. Lucius knew he was going to have to alter to magical securities around his home; the Manor knew who was usually welcome and who was not- a burgular or enemy would have no chance or entry, Muggles couldn't even see the place, but family, even by marriage, was always able to enter.

"Please, _please_ tell me she's here, I'm going to kill her-" Lucius's eyes widened as Rodolphus staggered into the entry hall.

A wide gash across his forehead dripped blood into his eyes and down his clearly broken nose. He was limping as well, and the sleeve of his right arm seemed to have been burned off.

Lucius blinked. "Rodolphus," he began carefully, fully aware of what this could escalate to. It was to no avail; Rodolphus' mercurial temper had exploded out of control long before he showed up at the Malfoy Manor.

"_I'm going to fucking kill her!_" he roared, whirling around to face Lucius, reaching for his wand. However, Lucius was faster and more skilled in this area, and disarmed and disabled his friends effortlessly.

"You're not going to touch her, and if you disturb my wife or son, you will be permanently removed from my home," he snapped, hauling Rodolphus to his feet and dragging him towards his study. "You're going to sit here, and explain what happened."

Lucius braced himself for another outburst, but his shoulders slumped. "Did _you_ know, Lucius?" he mumbled miserably. "Was I really such a blind fool?"

Lucius waited, and Rodolphus drew in a shuddering breath.

"Evan. She slept with Evan." He seemed incapable of fluent articulation, and elaborated brokenly.

"I just found out. Evan showed up at our house this afternoon. Wanted to see Caroline. Apparently, the disloyal bastard found her 'endearing'. Said some bullshit about how he'd be different, that obviously he'd never hurt my little sister." His large hands balled into fists, and his jaw tightened. "I said no. He left. Caroline told me that, if I kept her 'locked up' forever away from Evan, she'd be so upset her heart would probably give out. She threatened to _die_ to get her way. Unbelieveable, isn't is?" he asked with a humorless snort. "So she went off and sulked, and Bella..." he paused to heave a deep breath, "Bella said I should let her go. I told her that I couldn't have Caroline getting upset or excited, and she said..."

Lucius frowned as Rodolphus's brow creased with pain.

"She said Evan was boring. And that she doubted anything he did would excite her enough to cause any danger."

In any other woman, the words might have been impartial, but he could imagine just how Bellatrix would say it; in her low, husky voice with a suggestive smirk and too-innocent eyes.

"I asked what she meant by that. She just smiled. I asked when. She said... she said a few months after our wedding. Said I was out one day when he came to visit, and that she was bored. _Bored. _She saw that I was upset, and she said she thought that I knew- how would I know? She said... she said that she thought I realized that she didn't love me, that she'd married me for fun and freedom, and freedom included fucking other men. How was I supposed to know _that_? I knew she wanted to get away from her parents, but I didn't know..."

"No one could have expected you to know," he replied gruffy, unable to offer any other sort of sympathy. "And she is here; she's with Narcissa."

"I'm going to kill her," he announced dejectedly. Lucius sighed.

"You are not. Come with me," he commanded, rising to his feet. Rodolphus limped miserably along, and Lucius arrived at the guest room where the sisters were chatting amiably on the bed.

"Lucius! You-" Narcissa sat up and frowned, eyeing Roldophus uncertainly.

"Rodolphus would like to speak to his wife. Narcissa, perhaps we should step outside."

For a moment, Narcissa considered arguing that Rodolphus might hurt Bella, but considering his current condition, she decided that perhaps her sister could defend herself.

"Very well." With a glance at Bellatrix, she joined her husband in the corridor. He quietly shut the door.

Almost immediately, shouting could be heard from the other side. Narcissa looked on worriedly, but Lucius merely leaned against the wall to wait. There was a crash from within. The yells ceased, and Naricissa glanced at her husband nervously.

"You don't think-" she broke off as a heavy thud was heard. Her eyes widened as the noises continued. "He hurting her!" she insisted. Bellatrix cried out, and her indignant sister started forward, but Lucius grabbed her arm, grimacing.

"He's not hurting her."

"He _is!_ Can you not hear-"

"He's not. Narcissa," he looked at her meaningfully. "She's fine. I think we can leave them on their own now. Your sister and Rodolphus are... less than articulate. They are... making up. In their own way."

It took Narcissa another moment before red flooded her cheeks and she turned abruptly to stride briskly down the corridor.

"So, what happened? Did Rodolphus say anything?" she asked primly, glancing over her shoulder as Lucius's long, easy steps quickly matched her hurried pacce.

"He did. But I'd like to hear what Bellatrix told you, first."

"Nothing else, just that she'd done something insignificant, and he'd flown into a rage."

"She slept with Evan. Evan Rosier- perhaps you remember him?"

Narcissa nodded, lips pressed together in disapproval.

"Anyway, it was shortly after their wedding. You sister thought that promiscuity was all but granted in their vows- clearly, she found your parents' supervision oppressive, and was merely using Rodolphus as an escape." Lucius exhaled sharply, and shook his head. "He is lost. Utterly and entirely. Bellatrix never respected him, but his willingness to accept her behavior I fear shall be his ruin. Now she will not only find him weak, but actively despise his consititution. He will love her more and try to plead her affections back," he predicted, "and she will laugh in his face. Their relationship was a slippery slope to begin with, and now he has indeed fallen."

They had reached their own bedroom by now, and Lucius carelessly shucked his shoes and socks on the floor before sitting down on the bed. He stayed still only a moment though, before rising with a heavy sigh to move his shoes to the closet, and summon an elf to take his laundry, and take off his belt and hang it up neatly-

"_Why_ do you do that?" Narcissa exploded at last. He glanced up in surprise, and she defended quickly, "I mean, what's the harm of leaving your shoes there for the night? You'll just take them out again tomorrow."

He shook his head. "It's just something I've grown accustomed to. As a child, my mother would have elves throw away anything remaining on the floor after I'd gone to bed. One time..." He frowned. "Never mind. It doesn't matter any more." He returned to his seat on the edge of the bed.

"Lucius..." she sighed, stepping forward carefully. She was still not fully confident around him, and her uncertainty made her hesitate. "Your mother is not here," she reminded him softly, cautiously positioning herself before him. "And I assure you, I don't mind a little mess." To emphasize her point, she unclasped her necklace, dropping it to the rug. Lucius seemed taken aback, but she didn't stop there. She removed her earings, flung them aside as something akin to terrible frustration becan to well within her, and her bracelet soon followed. Without pausing to consider her actions, Narcissa yanked her hair free, letting it fall down her back, and tossed her robes in a heap. She probably wouldn't even have stopped there- another moment and her knickers could have joined the mess she was creating. But Lucius had risen abruptly, curled his hands around her bare waist, and crushed his lips to hers.

She met him with a desperate sort of ferocity, eagerly pressing forward and parting her lips so his tongue could slide in, hungry and exploratory. A low groan escaped him, and she realized he'd been waiting for this for a long, long time. It seemed almost strange- this side of Lucius did not dovetail with the passive, reserved man to whom she'd grown accustomed. But there was no restraint in him now, and his mouth was like fire as he tasted her for the first time. There was no hesitation, and Narcissa smiled to herself, wondering if there was nothing he could not do with expertise should he be so inclined.

Lucius dropped down to her neck and she gave a small murmur of approval as he suckled gently, nipped at her earlobe, and brushed his nose to the hollow of her throat.

"You are," he whispered, drawing back to stare at her with serious eyes, darkened with lust. "So, _so _beautiful." He lifted one hand to carefully brush the loose strands of hair from her face, and tipped his head forward to kiss her once more. It brought a pleased flush to her face to realize that he wanted her, the evidence pressing against her stomach. It was surely absurd that she should feel such- after all, it was hardly their wedding night and she was no longer a virgin. But it _felt _like the first time; Narcissa felt giddy and nervous and heady and wanted nothing more than to stand here and keep kissing her husband, perhaps forever.

Lucius, however, had somewhat less patience. Without being entirely sure how she got there, Narcissa realized that she was lying on the bed and Lucius's hand smoothed down her back, over her hips and thighs, catching behind her knees and lifting her legs to wrap around his waist, continuing to kiss her all the while. She also noted that he was wearing far too much clothing, and immediately began to rectify the situation by unbuttoning his shirt. If he'd been able to stop caressing her silky skin for even a moment, he might have helped her with the task. When the hindersome fabric was gone at last, Narcissa arched against him, letting her head fall back and wordlessly offering him what ever he chose to take. With a groan, he slid down, reaching behind her to unfasten the clasp of her bra as his lips parted against the sensitive flesh.

Suddenly, the door burst open with a resounding bang. Lucius's head jerked up and fury swept away all traces of his senuously placid expression. Narcissa was slower to react, turning her head in confusion towards the noise.

Bellatrix was staring at them, evidently as baffled as her sister. "I... Well. I certainly didn't mean to interrupt. I suppose I didn't realize there was anything _to_ interrupt." She didn't budge, despite Lucius's obviously enraged glare. "Hm. Well, that's certainly interesting-"

"Bella! What the _fuck_ is taking so lon- oh." Rodolphus stopped beside his wife, clearly as stunned as she. "We were... leaving." He glanced at Bellatrix, trying to determine if she could make any sense from the scene. Deciding she could not, he looked back, mystified.

"Oh, get _out!" _Lucius snarled at last. Bellatrix stifled a snort of laughter, and turned away.

"C'mon, Roddy. I didn't realize..."

"That they fucked?" Rodolphus offered helpfully. Bellatrix nodded, supressing another laugh. "I mean, they certainly don't seem the type," he continued, still looking on bemusedly.

"I didn't think so either. But I mean, they've got a kid..."

"Yeah, but I figured it just happened once or something. This is strange."

"Bella!" Narcissa wailed. "Go away!"

"Yes, of course. We were on our way out." Grinning widely, Bellatrix seized her husband's arm and began to drag him off. Their laughter continued all the way down the hall, and Lucius slammed the door behind them with a flick of his wand.

Narcissa sat up slowly, blushing as she walked over to the wardrobe to select a nightgown. The moment had evaporated thanks to her dreadful sister, and now she felt uncomfortable in the silence. Lucius vanished briefly into the bathroom and Narcissa changed quickly and slipped into bed. He reemerged shortly, and silently climbed into bed beside her, darkening the room with his wand. He didn't stir, and Narcissa turned to face him. If she squinted, she could just discern his profile, staring resolutely at the ceiling.

"Good night, Lucius," she sighed. Perhaps this evening had been ruined, but, she assured herself, there would be other nights. Very carefully, she leaned over to press her lips to his cheek. "Sleep well."


	24. Chapter 24

"Hey, sweetie," Narcissa crooned, scooping up her son and kissing his forehead. "Do you know what time it is?"

He cooed, smiling aimlessly and reaching up for a handful of her hair.

"Bath time!" she sang, twirling him out of the room. Still humming, she filled his small tub with warm, bubbly water, and placed him gently inside. He immediately began to shriek with glee, slapping his palms on the surface simply for the sheer joy of splashing. Narcissa laughed along with his babyish giggles, nuzzling her nose to his. "We'll get you nice and clean before your father gets home, yes?"

He grinned broadly, and gave a sudden, delighted squeal. "Da-da!"

Narcissa dropped the soap in shock. "_What?_ Draco, love, what did you say?" The child held out his arms, and Narcissa gasped when she felt a hand on the small of her back. She half turned to look up at Lucius, who was currently regarding their son with a small, shining smile.

"Hello, Draco," Lucius murmured, reaching out to brush the boy's cheek with his fingertips. He turned to his wife, happiness lingering in his gaze. "Hello, Narcissa. Did you have a pleasant day?"

"I..." She felt strangely flustered at the warmth that seemed to be emanating from him, and the hand on her back was, for some inexplicable reason, making it difficult to think. "Yes. I did, thank you. How was yours?"

"Fine," he replied, for a moment caught up in her breathless stare.

"Did, er..." Narcissa jerked her head away, looking instead to the tiny boy in the bath, "Did you teach him that?"

"I did," he confirmed. "Although, I've never heard him repeat it."

_His first word._ Narcissa wrapped her arms around his waist, and rested her head on Lucius's chest. "How wonderful that we could both be here, then."

For a moment, he seemed uncertain of how to respond to her affection; he hadn't been sure if everything that had changed last night would be lasting.

"What a splendidly clever son we have," Narcissa sighed.

"O_ur_ son," Lucius murmured, eyes warm. "He is indeed."

Narcissa turned back to the basin to resume her task. Lucius lingered close behind, and cautiously, as though to test her reaction, swept her long blonde hair from the back of her neck, and gently pressed his lips in its place.

She smiled.

"Oh, I nearly forgot- we'll be having a guest over this evening."

"A guest?" she echoed, lifting Draco from the water and swathing him in a towel. "Anyone I know?"

"An acquaintance of mine; perhaps you remember him from school? Severus Snape- although I believe he was several years your junior."

Narcissa tilted her head to the side, thinking. "That strange one, was he? With his nose always in a book?"

Lucius chuckled. "Very eloquent, my dear. Yes, he'd be the one."

"And what's the nature of the visit?"

"We need to discuss... politics," he said carefully, then shrugged. "And I thought you two would get along well."

Personally, Narcissa very much doubted this. The boy had been a misfit at school, and she did not think that he was sociable to get along with anyone. He'd been odd and unpopular as far as she could recall, but decided to merely nod. "Should I tell the elves to set an extra place for dinner?"

"That would be a good idea." He kissed her neck once more. "I'm going to go change."

She looked back at him, and noticed that he was dressed quite peculiarly. He wore no robes, but had a black jacket over his usual cotton poplin shirt, and wrapped at his neck was an odd, long bit of fabric. Narcissa regarded this piece with curiousity, trailing her fingers from the end of the scarf-like thing, at his navel, up to the knot at his throat. He swallowed as her curious touch wandered over his abdomen and chest, and he captured her hand in his own to brush his lips across her knuckles.

"It's called a 'tie'," he informed her. "I needed to pass through Muggle London today to get to a meeting."

"Oh," she quirked a brow. "It's quite... funny."

"Muggles do wear the oddest costumes," he agreed, loosening the garment. "And Severus will be here at seven."

* * *

As promised, at precisely seven o'clock, a resounding knock echoed throught the Manor, magically amplified.

"Well, he's punctual, isn't he?" Narcissa commented to Draco as she moved to answer the door.

"An admirable quality," Lucius added, appearing beside her, dressed properly once more.

"Indeed," she sniffed as she opened the door.

She was not entirely sure what to make of the man standing before her. Barely a man at all- he looked to still be in his late teens. He was alarming skinny, a fact that even his plain, baggy robes could not hide, and his thin shoulders were hunched as though he'd spent a few too many hours in the library. His nose was much to large and his hair, while clean, was lank and fell limply around his face. Because she was carefully cataloguing his flaws, it took a moment or two before her gaze moved to meet his. When she did, her brows lifted fractionally, the only indicator of the surprise she felt.

His eyes, entirely black, sparkled with such acuity and intelligence that she was afraid for a heartbeat to speak, worried that she might sound ignorant. She'd never so clearly seen such depth and wisdom set before her, and in such an unusual background! There were dark circles around those brilliant eyes, and his skin was translucently sallow, but she knew immediately that Lucius was right. She already liked and admired Severus Snape, despite the fact he'd not said a word.

"Hello, Severus," Lucius murmured, the corner of his mouth twitching as he watched the two observe the other. "This is my wife, Narcissa."

"Er...welcome!" Narcissa babbled, flushing. "It's lovely to meet you, Severus. This is Draco," she continued quickly, lifting the boy from her hip.

Severus inclined his head slightly. "Hello, Narcissa." His tone was cool and controlled, an indistinct tenor that had little feeling. His eyes flicked to her son. "Hello, Draco."

The boy stared back solemnly for several moments, before burying his face in his mother's shoulder, seemingly overcome with shyness as he peeked back at their visitor through Narcissa's long hair.

"I thought we would eat first," Lucius told Severus, gesturing that he should step inside. Severus nodded in agreement, and followed them into the dining room. He took his seat without a word, and Lucius continued speaking.

"I was at a meeting with the Minister today, and he was... _concerned_, to say the very least," he announced, looking slightly smug.

"Good," Severus murmured. "He should be."

Food bloomed on their plates, and the three began to eat. Draco, in his highchair, was spooned tibits from an elf.

"However, I believe we have ample time to discuss such dealings. Later. Narcissa," he turned his attention, and Narcissa froze with her fork half way to her mouth.

"Yes?"

"I recall that we did attend school together for a brief amount of time, but I fear we did not know each other well. You are Bellatrix's sister, are you not?"

"Oh, you know Bella? Yes, I am. I hope you're on good terms with her though; most people aren't. She can be... difficult."

His fascinating eyes shone with amusement. "'Difficult'. What an appropriate euphemism. She and Rodolphus make quite the pair."

"Oh, they're impossible! I'd never tell anyone this, but I don't much like Rodolphus. It's all well and good that's she's happy with him, but he seems so unrefined and... and... fearsome!"

As soon as the sentence left her mouth, she jolted in surprise at her own words. She _had _never told anyone that, and wasn't sure why she'd just done so to a perfect stranger. However, it somehow seemed alright that she had; it felt strangely as though she could tell Severus anything at all and he wouldn't judge her, as though she could empty every one of her secrets into those fathomless eyes and it would be fine. For a split second, she wished that Lucius was not there, so she could tell Severus about their new-found relationship, how happy he was beginning to make her feel- even confess that sometimes she still thought of Mort, and it still hurt, and was that alright?

With a firm mental shake, Narcissa pulled herself back to the present. She was being ridiculous. She didn't know Severus Snape at all!

"Rodolphus is a barbarian," Severus agreed quietly, taking a sip of wine. There was something... she couldn't quite place it. Something almost agamous about him, something that made him seemed removed, detached in a way she couldn't understand. Masculine vices or feminine airs she could comprehend, but the was something elusive about this young man.

"Although, I don't suppose Bella could end up with anyone civilized! You know, when we were little, she would light my dresses on fire and hide my favorite toys. She's a barbarian herself, but I do love her. Dromeda would always clean up Bella's messes, fix all her destructive little upsets."

This time, Narcissa stopped cold. She hadn't spoken of _her_ in years. _She_ didn't exist anymore, not to the Blacks, and Narcissa could not quite believe that she'd mentioned her so carelessly, so easily, in the middle of supper. Abruptly, she shoved her chair back and rose. "I need to..." she couldn't think of an excuse, and exited without another word. Lucius rose to quietly trail behind.

"Why did I say that?" she hissed once they were out of earshot. Her face was hot, and she trembled with mortification. "I'm so sorry Lucius, I must be feeling unwell. I just can't stop talking!"

Much to her horror, Lucius was regarding her with what appeared to be amusement. "Calm yourself, Narcissa. Severus has that effect on people, and he is entirely used to it; people have mentioned far more humiliating things to him, I assure you. He is an extrodinarily gifted Legilimens, and even when he makes no effort, the magic lingers around him. He cannot see your thoughts without effort, but as you have noticed, your thoughts are drawn out anyway. It's unusual, I've never seen it in another individual. And it's not infallible either - now that I've warned you, it should be much easier to control."

"You could've mentioned something a bit earlier!" she snapped.

Lucius shrugged, showing no remorse. "I could have," he agreed. "But I could see how taken with him you were when he walked in, and I was interested."

Narcissa wasn't sure whether or not she should be annoyed. While she mulled it over, Lucius asked mildly, "Shall we returned to our guest now? Or perhaps allow Draco to entertain him a bit longer?"

"Oh!" she gasped."Of course!"

* * *

Later that evening, after Severus was gone (and Narcissa had embarassed herself half a dozen more times) Lucius slid into bed beside his sulking wife.

"So... did you dislike Severus, then?"

"No! Not at all! But you weren't the one telling him how you were terrified of kneazles and crups, and how you- you wet the bed until you were five-" her voice broke off, strangled with mortification.

"No. But I don't regret his unusual gift; in fact, it is the reason he is such a close aquaintance."

Narcissa turned to him, eyes wide. "That's awful! Using him so he can get information for you!"

"No," he said quickly, "You misunderstand. His talent was initially the reason we began to speak, I should have said," he corrected. "You see, in my fifth year, he approached me in the library, and asked if I had a spare quill that he could use. Under normal circumstances, even with his gift, I probably would have just given him one and left it at that, but I'd just recieved a particularly viscious owl from my father, implying that my inheirtance relied on my receiving 'O's on each of my upcoming O.W.L's. So instead, I told him that of course I had quills, that my bloody father had all the time in the world to send quills and parchments and scathing letters, and not a spare second to actually be a father." Lucius paused. "I couldn't very well let him walk away after that; I didn't know him, didn't know if he'd be the sort to start rumours. Obviously, I had no choice but to befriend him."

"Is he so terrible then, your father? He always seemed so kind to me."

"My father... is not an intentionally cruel person. He has different expectations for different people, and will not compromise. He is fickle; he is concerned with little and loves less- he never loved my mother or my sisters, despite what he told them. He gives affection freely and I daresay hurt many people- but no. He is not terrible. He merely is who he is.

"He did love someone," Narcissa blurted suddenly. Lucius quirked an eyebrow in curiousity. "A woman, named... oh, what was it? They went to school together. When he left, did your father empty his study?"

"Not entirely."

"I'll show you, then." She hopped out of bed without bothering to grap a robe, and Lucius followed, somewhat warily. "He had a photo album with her picture in it."

She pushed open the door, and glanced around uncertainly. The once warm and lavish study looked bare and unwelcoming; the cauldrons and potions were gone, leaving one corner bare, the Axminister and Moontrimmer had been removed from their cases, leaving lonely plaques behind, the desk was empty and imposing, the astronomical model had vanished, and half the tomes had been stripped from their shelves.

"Over here," she said after a moment, spotting the photo books and hurrying over. "See, it was this one." She flipped it opened, and stopped. Lucius stood behind her, quirking his head in curiousity.

"There are no pictures," he pointed out helpfully. With a huff, she glanced up in irritation.

"Yes, I _see_ that." Quickly, she began to flip through the pages, and saw that not _all _the photographs were gone- the photographs that showed only the brunette boy and blonde girl were still there, but every single shot of Charlotte were missing.

"He took them with him," Lucius murmured, staring thoughtfully at the empty pages. "I see your point. I suppose..." Lucius exhaled sharply. "I suppose this explains quite a bit. He never truly loved again." He lifted the book from her, and began to slowly turn the pages.

If Narcissa had not been carefully watching him, she would have missed it. However, because of her scrutiny, she saw it: the flash of his eyes in her direction, the probing, curious look, saturated with concern; obviously, his mind had made the connection her's had when she first learned of Charlotte. But this would _have _to be different; she would _not _be married to him for decades and still love Mort. She simply would not let it happen.

He had looked back down, and was staring at the blank pages with a furrowed brow. Taking a deep breath, Narcissa pushed the book from his unresisting grasp, and it fell to the ground in flurry of disarray.

"Forget about it," she whispered thickly. "Just forget it." Seemingly on their own accord, her arms wound themselves around his neck, and pulled his lips to hers. He responded immediately, wrapping and arm around her waist and pulling her close. His other hand skated over her waist, sliding up to cradle the heavy curve of her breast. He backed her carefully against the desk, lifting her so she was perched at just the right height to curl her legs around his hips, which she quickly tried to do, only to find the long hem of her nightgown in the way. Eyes shining micheviously and a wicked smirk about his lips, Lucius dropped to his knees before her. With one hand, he slowly began to push the fabric up over her knees, while the other captured her foot and extended her leg. Still watching her expression, he pressed his lips to the sensitive spot beneath her ankle, moving up with soft, biting kisses along her calf. Her dress was up to her waist by now, and, monitoring her face carefully, her hooked her leg over his shoulder. Narcissa closed her eyes and allowed her head to tilt back, biting her lip as she felt his tongue dancing lightly along the inside of her thigh. Her fingers pushed through his hair, and he reached out to tug down her knickers- but never got the chance.

A ringing wail caused Lucius to jerk back, and Narcissa stifled her own moan of dissappointment. Draco was awake, and fairly upset, by the sound of things.

"I'll go," Lucius sighed as he drew away, ducking his head and drawing deep breaths in effort to calm his obviously aroused state. "Give me a moment."

"No, it's alright." Narcissa slid from the desk, pushing her skirt down. "I've got him." She hurried from the study and to the nursery.

"Oh, Draco," she murmured dejectedly. "What is it?"

He was staring up at her unhappily, and reached for something outside the bars of his crib. Unsuccessful, he began to cry again. Narcissa glanced down, and saw that his aimless, sleepy movements has somehow pushed his favorite blanket to the floor. Biting back a sigh of frustration, she plucked the fabric up and handed it to her son.

"There. Better?"

His tears immediately ceased and he curled a fist in the silky material, cuddling a delighted cheek to it. Seeing his charming reaction, Narcissa melted. "Please hold on to it tighter next time, my baby." She leaned over to kiss his forehead as he promptly drifted back to sleep.

Narcissa did not return to the bedroom. There was something just tenuous enough about their relationship that she wasn't sure how to rekindle the moment, and she did not wish to sit in uncomfortable silence. She would at least wait long enough to give Lucius the chance to pretend to be asleep when she returned.

Humming softly, she quietly picked out an outfit for her son to wear the next day, rearranged some trinkets, and sat on the rocking chair, watching Draco's little chest rise and fall peacefully. After about fifteen minutes, she rose and padded down the hallway. When she pushed open the door to the bedroom, Lucius was, in fact, pretending to sleep. But his shoulders were far too rigid, his posture stiff, and a slight frown on his face. But his eyes were closed and he was lying down, and as long as that remained the case, she could act as though he slumbered.

However, when she crawled into bed beside him and dimmed the lights, he shattered her illusion.

"Narcissa?" He rolled over to face her. "Do you remember when you asked for a honeymoon?"

"Yes."

"Did you still have any interest in going on one?"

Grinning into the dark, Narcissa nodded.


	25. Chapter 25

They couldn't be away for long. Lucius had work and Narcissa wasn't sure how long she could bear to be parted from her six-month-old, but there would, without doubt, be a honeymoon.

"We can hire a nanny for the week," Lucius proposed as they sat in his study the next evening. He was casually swirling a tumbler of scotch, watching Narcissa and Draco with a lazily sort of contentment. The other two blondes were on the floor, playing with blocks. Narcissa looked up with a frown.

"I don't trust a nanny with my baby. You never know what kind of people are out there."

"Your sister, then?" he suggested snidely, anticipating Narcissa's expression of horror.

"_Bella's_ not coming within a kilometer of him while we're not around!"

"Who, then?"

She paused, thinking. "What if... we _did_ have a nanny, in addition to someone we know and trust?"

"Alright, who?" Lucius was somewhat sure that he knew who she was thinking of, but waited anyway.

"It.. it wouldn't be strange if we asked...I mean, I know I've only just met him, but you've known him for ages, and he'd just need to be here, wouldn't even need to do any of the real _caring..._ but do you think Severus would do it?"

Lucius smirked, and downed the rest of his drink. "I don't know. Why don't you ask him?"

"That..." she flushed slightly. "That would be strange, wouldn't it? Especially after I made such a fool of myself yesterday. Could you ask him?" She stared up imploringly. "Please?"

Lucius set down his glass. "Go take Draco to bed." His tone was gentle. She obey with a sigh, fully intending on pressing the issue once she returned. However, as soon as she'd left the room, Lucius headed over to the fire place, scooping a handful of floo powder.

"Spinner's End," he pronounced clearly. He dropped to his knees; although his own hearth was tall enough for him to stand before, he'd ended up with a number of nasty bruises from forgetting to duck into Severus's.

Bracing his hands on the bricks of his fireplace, he peered around his friend's living room. It appeared to be empty. "Severus," he called. A door opened, and Severus emerged from his kitchen, looking perturbed.

"You could have owled."

"You could have ignored an owl. As it is, would you mind flooing to the Manor? Just briefly."

"As a matter of fact, I would."

"Really? Why?" he asked flatly.

"I don't trust anyone who floos at this hour. You want something, and I feel like its something I certainly will not enjoy giving."

"Just come over here," he snapped, yanking his head from the flames and stepping back. A moment later, Severus stumbled in.

"This had better be good."

"I need a favor."

"Really? I'm shocked."

Lucius inhaled sharply. "Alright, just keep in mind that you'd be helped, and Narcissa and I would be thoroughly indebted to you, and-"

"What do you _want,_ Lucius?"

"Narcissa and I were hoping to leave town for a week."

Severus waited.

"Alone."

Still, Severus said nothing.

"Would you consider staying here with Draco?"

This time, Lucius was fairly sure Severus remained silent out of horror.

"You want me," he began slowly, "to... _babysit?_"

"No! Not exactly. Well... yes. Will you?"

"No. Absolutely not."

"You would have help. We'd hire a nanny, too. But Narcissa didn't like the idea of leaving him alone with a stranger."

"Can't one of your mothers watch him?"

"My mother hates children, and Druella and Cygnus are visiting family in St. Petersburg."

Severus pressed his lips together. "You really don't have a lot of friends, do you?"

"So your answer is no, then?"

"That is correct."

Lucius sighed, and rose slowly. "Very well, then. Will you wait here a moment?"

Severus nodded briefly, and Lucius went out into the hallway, just as Narcissa arrived. "Wait in there a moment, will you? I'll be right back."

Narcissa blinked in confusion. "But I wanted to ask-"

"Just a moment, Narcissa," he murmured, brushing by. Frowning slightly, she entered the study, and stopped short.

"Severus! Did he convince you, then?" she gushed delightedly, then immediately checked her tone. Despite his unusual ability, she did need to keep in mind the fact that she'd met him only yesterday.

"I'm afraid not. I don't think I'll be able to."

"Another week, then? Any time that's good for you..."

"Narcissa," he sighed. "I don't think-"

"Please? Lucius and I so desperately need to be alone together-" _No._ She bit down on her tongue. She did _not _need to share that.

"I understand, but certainly you have no reason to mistrust professional caregivers. It is, after all, their job to tend children..."

"But Draco is my baby, my only baby, and I'd never have a moment's peace worrying about him with some stranger!"

"Narcissa, I will not."

"Oh, I'll never ask for another favor again!" she promised. He regarded her with his inscrutable black eyes.

"Yes, you will."

"Well, you'll never have to say yes again!"

"I don't have to say yes now," he pointed out.

Her eyes glowed, and she clasped her hands in delight. "But you will," she crowed, sensing victory.

* * *

Narcissa decided they should go to France. It was near enough that they could return home quickly if necessary, far enough that they wouldn't have to worry about intrusive acquaintances, and familiar enough that they wouldn't feel obligated to explore the local geography. Lucius picked the Loire Valley, a mellow region known for its stellar châteaux and vintages. They agreed on a sumptuous little cottage, which, although small, was lavishly decorated and equipt with every possible necessity, and as a futher bonus, was Unplottable and invisible to Muggles. Narcissa had delighted in the description and pictures of the gîte- the lush, colorful gardens, kept in bloom year round, the private lake designed for swimming, the sparkling bathroom with the clawfoot tub and array of complementary bubble baths. Lucius glanced over it briefly and merely nodded once in approval. Although Narcissa was fairly certain that the opulent little gem required months of reservations, Lucius wrote a carefully worded note that managed to make the place theirs the very next week.

"My sweet, darling boy, I will miss you terribly. I love you so very much, and be good," she crooned, showering Draco with another flurry of kisses. "We'll only be gone a week, my angel, and Severus and Miss Hannah will take good care of you and you'll have lots of fun and-"

"Narcissa, you're going to miss the trip if you don't stop saying goodbye," Severus interrupted drily.

"But we've never left him before and-"

"Yes, I _know_. Go away."

She pressed her lips to the child's forehead one last time, and handed him away to the nanny. "Take good care of my little boy," she implored, blinking hard. Severus rolled his eyes and took her by the arm, ushering her to the front doors where Lucius waited. He nodded once to Severus, having already said his farewells to Draco, and offered the portkey to his wife. With a final sigh and wave to her son, Narcissa placed her finger on the enchanted marble, and they were off.

* * *

As soon as they arrived, Narcissa felt shyness well in her abruptly. She moved forward to open the door, and Lucius followed silently.

"Oh, look how lovely!" she exclaimed, darting into the cottage.

The first room was a cozy living room, small but well decorated. There were only two doors leading off from it, other than the one they'd just entered from. Narcissa crossed the room to find the kitchen, which she gave only a cursory glance. The two elves they'd brought along would be the only ones spending time in here.

She turned around, and saw that Lucius was waiting by the second door. She swallowed; there was no doubt what might lie behind _that_ door. She smiled and moved past him, fighting a thrill of nerves as she absorbed the large bed. The blankets had been turned down invitingly, and the pillows looked soft and welcoming.

Narcissa scurried over to examine the bathroom. She'd seen it all in the brochure, and knew she was merely delaying. When she emerged back into the bedroom, Lucius was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I think... we should unpack," Narcissa declared, busying herself in the trunk the elves had brought in. She thought she heard a quiet sigh, but he rose to put his own clothes into a drawer. It was something a house elf could have done, but she was glad that he would give her just a bit more time to delay.

Lucius finished quickly, but Narcissa took her time hanging up her robes and dresses, passing her wand over each one to remove creases or dust from traveling. She did not turn around when Lucius sat back on the bed, but was certain she could feel his eyes tracing every movement she made.

_Calm down_, she told herself firmly. _You're going to to fall in love with him, possibly this week. It won't be dreadful,_ she thought unconvincingly. _It's been lovely those two times when we were interrupted, and even if the act itself is unpleasant, at least the bit leading up to it will be..._ a small shiver ran down her spine as she recalled his touch upon her, his intensity and her own desire. _Wonderful. Enduring what comes after will entirely be worth getting that again. Besides,_ she glanced over her shoulder to where Lucius sat. His elbows rested on his knees and when their eyes met, he quirked one brow as if to ask if she was done yet. She quickly turned back around. _It will make him happy._

"Alright, well, that's the last one," Narcissa announced in a falsely bright voice. Lucius began to rise, expression warming considerably. "I'm going to go change now."

For the first time, a look of irritation flashed over his features as he sat back abruptly. "Fine. Go."

Narcissa knew this was to be her last delay, but it hardly mattered; she hadn't planned to wait after this. "I'll only be a moment," she promised, and slipped into the bathroom. Her fingers made quick work of her robes, and she glanced over at the apparel she'd brought to change into.

Was it too much? She wasn't entirely sure. She was new at such things, and had considered asking Bellatrix, but discarded the idea quickly. These thing came so easily to her sister; Bella and Rodolphus were comfortable with each other, and while perhaps she would have helped if asked, Narcissa was sure she couldn't bear the teasing she'd have to endure.

The gown she'd purchased for the occasion was short and silky, something her mother would be aghast to see, but Narcissa had thought quite modest in comparison to some of the other ensembles in the shop. It was a lovely mint green, pale and translucent and edged with a tiny lace trim at the hem and neckline. Narcissa thought it looked appealing, and hoped Lucius would agree.

She poked her head into the bedroom. Lucius was sitting on the bed, having stripped down to only his black boxer shorts. His arms were folded across his bare chest and his chin was tilted almost defiantly. She could clearly read his expression, and it made her smile; he would have absolutely no more procrastination. He looked over when she peeked out, opened his mouth to speak, and then froze as she emerged fully.

"Yes?" she prompted, grinning. His mouth was still open, though he seemed to have forgotten this.

"Come here," he growled at last, and Narcissa giggled, darting over to the bed and into his arms.

Instantly, Narcissa forgot what had been worrying her. His hands moved over her urgently and she slipped her leg up to straddle him. He kissed her again and again, drawing away only for a quick breath before returning to her lips. Narcissa's arms wrapped around his shoulders and her nails skated over his back, and she lifted one hand to tangle her fingers in his hair. One of his hands tugged impatiently at the hem of her gown, and the other stroked her hip and waist through the filmy fabric. She shifted restlessly against him and he groaned, pulling her tightly against him and throwing her small dress aside, having removed it at last. His eager movements had her on her back a heartbeat later, and she twisted her legs around his waist, a growing warmth between her thighs encouraging her to press nearer to him. Her breathing was coming in gasps now, her movements slightly sloppy in her impatience, when suddenly, Lucius went rigid. Narcissa frowned and kissed the tender spot beneath his ear questioningly, fingertips gliding across his chest. For a moment he seemed content to settle back against her, finding her lips with his own once more, but then he jerked back suddenly.

"What's wrong?" she asked, alarmed as he turned away. "Lucius," her hand extended to stroke his lower back and he gave a miserable moan before rising to his feet.

"Narcissa," he did not turn to look at her, but his shoulders were slumped and his tone was defeated. "I have to go."

"_What?_" She bolted upright, glaring in disbelief and clutching the sheets up to her throat. Lucius had gone to his trunk by now, and lifted a false bottom from it to reveal a set of dark robes underneath. Narcissa slid out of bed and followed him, grabbing his arm when he tried to turn away.

"Ouch!" It felt as though she'd just touched a hot pan, and Lucius spun around, concern etched into his features.

"Are you alright? I didn realize you'd be able to feel it..." With his right hand he took her wrist gently, and briefly examined her palm. "No, I didn't think it would leave a burn- does it feel alright now?"

"Yes.... Lucius, why are you going?"

"I don't have a choice," he managed through gritted teeth, and she noticed that the ugly tattoo on his left arm had turned from it's usually angry red to an inky black.

"He's calling you?" she guessed, and he nodded as though it caused him great pain. "Can't he wait just a little while?" she begged, wrapping her arms around his neck and manuevering so that he could feel the entire lenght of her practically nude body against him. He bit back another groan of despair, but seemed incapable of disengaging himself.

"I have to... Narcissa..."

She drew away and he scrabbled for his robes, unable to take his eyes from her. Narcissa noted that even the heavy black cloth did not entirely conceal his state of arousal, and wondered fleetingly if perhaps He-Who-Must-Must-Not-Be-Named was, in fact, merciful, and would decide that this particular Death Eater was not quintessential for this particular mission.

"I'll be back," he promised, kissing her hurriedly once more before slipping on his mask. "Probably in a few hours." He groped in the pockets of his discarded robes for his wand, and gave her one last glance, full of longing, before Disapparating with a resounding _crack._

Miserably, Narcissa sank back onto the bed.

* * *

Lucius knew, as he Apparated into the deserted building, that this was going to be a difficult night. The Dark lord would undoubtedly be irritated with his tardiness, and in his fluster, he recognized that he'd have no chance at Occlumency, meaning that the last hour would no longer be private. He did not think that he'd be able to escape Aurors or Order members if the activities of the evening called for it, so he would most likely be in Azkaban tomorrow. He had no desire to torment Muggles tonight, and would probably suffer the Cruciatus later for his lack of enthusiasm. He would have to deal with Bellatrix's madness, Rodolphus's crude and unfeeling brutality, Severus's perceptiveness- and on top of all this, he was still hard.

He shuffled to his place in the circle with his fists jammed in his pockets and was dismayed to see he was the last arrival. Rodolphus shot him a quizzical look, but Lucius shook his head almost imperceptibly and stared straight ahead. His posture was slightly hunched, and he could feel Rodolphus staring at him, trying to discern why he was acting so strangely.

_Mind your own fucking business, Lestrange,_ he thought savagely when he felt the curious prod of another inside his mind. The invasion was retracted, and Rodolphus continued to study him for hints.

Suddenly, there was a half-stifled snort of realization beside him, and Lucius felt his face burn. He wanted to tell him to not say anything, but it was too late: he'd already leaned over to whisper in his wife's ear. She sniggered as well and leaned forward to shoot Lucius a nastily knowing look. In retaliation, Lucius made a rude hand gesture- just as the Dark lord turned to face them.

"Your childish bickering disappoints me," he snapped, and the three immediately stood up straighter and looked down, properly ashamed.

"Apologies, my lord..."

"It won't happen again, master..."

"Forgive me, please..."

He ignored their muttering, and began to address the group. Lucius resisted the urge to hex Bellatrix while her attention was elsewhere. He tried to focus on what was being said- they were going somewhere in Germany (Lucius swore mentally) to launch a dual attack: first on a Muggle village, and then set up an ambush for the Aurors that would doubtlessly flock the scene afterwards.

It would take a matter of days, not hours.

Somehow, his thoughts kept wandering. Images of Narcissa kept popping into mind, images he had no intention sharing, images that had no place at a Death Eater meeting.

"Lucius?" The cold voice hissing his name brought him back to the present unpleasantly.

"My lord?" He glanced over to see if Rodolphus was still ridiculing him, but realized with a sickening jolt that there was no one there. In fact, they were the only two in the room.

"Perhaps you could explain to me why you are still standing here, when I believe I made it quite clear that you were all to be on your way?"

"I-"

"You are among my most loyal and talented followers, Lucius, and it is not like you to be so distracted. However, if your pretty little wife proves to be a problem..." His words drifted off menacingly. Lucius could scarely control the shock of panic that darted through him.

"No, my lord," he gasped, dropping to his knee and bowing his head. "I regret my lapse in attentiveness, I meant no disrespect by it-"

"_Crucio._" He spoke softly, though Lucius still managed to her him through the agony that ripped his body. "I know, Lucius. You have been faithful and useful to me. And while I find it dismaying that you are so easily preoccupied by such base instincts, I suppose you _are_ merely human." He lifted the curse. "But I expect better."

"Of course, my lord," he replied, panting slightly as he dragged himself to his feet.

It was going to be a long mission.

* * *

(A/N: I know it's been a long time, and I'm sorry, but I thank all of you lovely people who reviewed. I _was_ going to make this the chapter you all were waiting for, but then I got a review asking why there was so little Death Eater activity, and well... I guess you know. I considered just making this chapter realllly long to fit their special moment in (yes, it's coming soon!), but it's been too long to make you wait that much longer. I've actually been quite sick, as one reviewer mentioned, but i'm almost fully recovered from surgery and out of the hospital and I thank you for your patience. A few one-shots was all I could manage on my meds.)


	26. Chapter 26

"_Avada Kedavra!_" A flash of green light, and Lucius scarcely waited to see if it had reached it's goal. "_Sectumsempra!" _There would be no hope of a Muggle surviving such wounds. "_Ava- _Bellatrix! Would you focus so we can get the hell out of here?" He skidded to a halt, glaring at the dark-haired woman. She ignored his command, a truly sinister light in her expression. With apparent delight and fascination, she watched the Muggle man upon the ground shrieking and writhing as she held out her wand. Gritting his teeth, Lucius lifted his own. The man went limp.

Bellatrix whirled to face him, eyes flashing. "What did you kill him for?" she snarled.

"You're wasting time. He said no survivors, and the Cruciatus curse doesn't kill."

"I was just having a bit of fun- you yourself have enjoyed a spot of Muggle torture from time to time, if I'm not mistaken!" she replied hotly, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, tonight I think we should just finish what we were sent to do and then go-"

"Back home so you can fuck your pretty little wife? Oh, I don't think so Lucius! I'm not rushing through this. _Crucio!_" she downed a fleeing inhabitant, and laughed.

"That's your own sister you're talking about," he hissed, again brandishing his wand to kill the victim she seemed so intent on torturing.

"Malfoy!" Her tone had a whining tinge to it now. "Stop that!" Once more, she cast the Cruciatus curse upon a Muggle, and for a third time, Lucius hissed '_Avada Kedavra._'

"Do it again, Malfoy, and it'll be _you _I torture!"

"I'm not afraid you you," he sneered. "Mad Bella, they call you, but I don't fear your insanity like everone else-"

"_Crucio!_" she screamed, and he ducked as a jet of red light soared inches above his head.

"See, it's your addled brains that make your aim bad," he taunted, narrowly avoiding another spell.

"_Sectumsempra!_" Her hex shot past Lucius's shoulder, but hit another Death Eater some ways back. He dropped to the ground with a cry.

"Damn it, look what you've done! I'm not taking care of him, but I'll be glad to tell the Dark lord why you're maiming our accomplices."

"Fuck you, Malfoy!" she snarled, lowering her wand. "I hope you get killed by the Aurors when they show up." With that, she turned and sprinted off- not towards her unintentional victim, who lay moaning on the ground, but into the darkness after the escaping Muggles. Lucius grit his teeth, and, despite his words, turned back to the man. This was meant to be the easy part, and there should be not deaths.

"Alright, then?" he asked, approaching the man. "Can you tell me where you live, and I'll make you a portkey?"

The man gasped out an address Lucius found a large pepple to change. "You have someone here to take care of your injuries?"

He nodded, and Lucius pressed the transport into his hand. "There you are, then. It should only be a moment."

"Thanks, Malfoy," he rasped, and Lucius paused. He had not realized that his was assisting an acquaintance, but before he could ask, the man promptly vanished.

* * *

Narcissa waited. She sat in bed for a while, then paced the floor, all the time cursing herself. She shouldn't have procrastinated. But now it was too late... though Lucius had said he would most likely be back in just a few hours. Eventually she put her robe on, found a book in the living room, and sat down to read. It was not a very interesting story, and she found herself glancing at the clock every few minutes. It was almost midnight.

Quarter to one.

One seventeen.

One forty-six.

One forty-seven.

One forty-seven and thirty-nine seconds.

Sighing, she tossed the book down, and moved into the other room, throwing aside her robe and crawling beneath the blankets. Narcissa wasn't sure how long she stared into the darknessbefore exhaustion overtook her, but she awoke with a start ad the first dim rays of sunshine filtered throught the drapes. She reached over eagerly, but ther fingers found only cold, undisturbed bedding. Lucius had not come back.

_Something is wrong._

He'd said just a few hours, and he still had not returned... Panic began to twist in the pit of her stomach. The small cottage, meant to be a retreat from the outside world, did not recieve a morning paper.

Seeing no other choice, she swung out of bed and hurried over to the fireplace. There was an ornate vase filled with floo powder, and the first person she decided to check with was Bellatrix. She knelt to the floor, poking her face into the licking green flames. Once she was taking through all the swirling chimneys to her sister's home, she cried out, "Bella!"

There was no reply.

"Bella! Bellatrix! Rodolphus?"

Silence greeted her. She was about to withdraw and try Rabastan, when a scrawny elf hobbled into view.

"The master and mistress are sleeping." It announced the lie its masters had told him to give to any visitors. "And will not be disturbed. Good day."

""No, you don't understand! I'm her sister, it's urgent, you must let be speak to them!"

"No disruptions, my mistress says," it repeated, and moved from the room.

Frustration and fear welling, she decided to call on Rabastan. If Bella and her husband were home, then surely the mission was over- Lucius should be with her by now.

"Rabastan?" she called uncertainly. "Rabby? Are you here?"

Her ears perked as she heard footsteps, but it was not Rabastan that entered the room.

Lysandra still managed to look stunning although she'd clearly just rolled out of bed. She wore a short silk gown and her hair was piled in artistic disarry upon her head, and she cupped a steaming mug of coffee in her hands.

"What?" she asked bluntly, yawning widely.

"I... er, is Rabastan here?"

"No. He ran off last night for some kind of business emergency. What do you want?" Her voice was cold.

"If... if he's not here, then nothing. Thank you anyway."

"Bye," Lysandra replied, turning to leave the room.

Who could she try now? She wondered desperately.

Severus! Of course, and he would be at the Manor if all was well with him. Her head was transported quickly back to her home, and she called out, "Severus!"

Immediately, the nanny they'd hired bustled into the room, holding Draco.

"A-ma!" he squealed in delight, recognizing her face in the fire. Despite herself, she smiled.

"My baby," she crooned back, and he clapped his hands.

"Now, Mrs. Malfoy, I thought I might be seeing you here this morning! Everything is fine, running without a snag. Now I must insist that you enjoy your vacation!" the woman said warmly. "Shoo, go along now."

"Can I speak with Severus?"

"Well, Mr. Snape has not yet risen for the day, but I can leave him a message if you'd like."

"So... so he is there, then?"

"Of course," she replied, not knowing that Severus had Disapparated from his room last night after retiring.

"This is very important. I must speak with him."

"I'd go wake him, Mrs. Malfoy, but he's locked the door and set Silencing spells on it- can't hear when I knock, you see."

Narcissa grit her teeth. "Very well. Good bye, Draco my dear."

There was only one place left to go. Only one other Death Eater she knew well enough to call upon.

Rodtimer.

When her face appeared in the fireplace, she saw the girl Jennifer crossing the room, arms full.

"Oh!" she gave a little cry of surprise. "Narcissa Malfoy, right?"

"Yes. Please, _please,_ I need to see Mor- er, Rodtimer right away. It's very important." She stared up at the other woman beseechingly.

"He's... not fit for recieving guests at the moment," Jennifer replied uncertainly.

"I'm not a guest, I'm an old friend, and it's very important!"

"Jen!" They both looked in the direction of the call. "Jen, are you coming back?"

"Coming!" she called, looking concerned. "Er... please, Narcissa, it's not a good time-"

"It's urgent!" Narcissa cried, desperate.

"Jen!"

"Just come and wait in here," she decided quickly. "I'll go ask him is he's up to seeing you." She hurried into the next room, and Narcissa flooed her entire self in with a rush of relief. Nearly ten minutes passed before the door opened once more, and Jennifer sighed, "Alright. He'll see you now."

Narcissa hurried past the other woman, and for a moment forgot why she had come. Mort was lying in bed, freshly-bandaged, eyes shut with pain. But he looked up at her and smiled, and Narcissa rushed forward.

"Oh, Mort, you're hurt!" she cried, reaching out to lay one hand tenderly on his cheek and sitting down on the bed beside him. "What happened? Are you going to be okay?"

"Cissy," he turned his head, pressing a kiss to her palm out of habit. "I'm fine. I got hit by... er... companionable cursery. The cuts aren't too deep, but I can't for the life of me get them to heal-" he gave a weak laugh. "Well, let's just hope 'the life of me' isn't what I have to give up."

"Don't say that!" she pleaded, grasping both his hands. "Please, don't say that." She brought his fingers to her lips, staring at him with fear.

"Once everything is over, I'll find whoever cast it- I'm pretty sure it was your sister- and ask for the counterspell. I'll be fine."

His words brought her back to reality, and as she recalled why she had come, Narcissa let his hands fall and blushed.

"I... I came to ask if you knew where Lucius was. He said when he left that he'd probably only be gone for a few hours..."

"Sometimes it is only that," he told her, patting her leg in a reassuring manner. She did not move away from his touch. "But it was bigger this time, he'll probably be a day or two still."

"So he's alright?" Narcissa was devastated and ashamed to hear how unenthusiastic her words sound. Rodtimer didn't seem to notice, or if he did, was not bothered by her tone.

"Yes. Last time I saw him-" he paused, unsure of why he did not want to tell Narcissa that it had been her husband that had sent him home, saved his life. "He was fine."

Narcissa nodded rather stiffly and rose. "Thank you. I- I suppose that was all I needed." Yet she could not bring herself to move. She felt locked in place by his stare, hungrily taking in his intense, dark blue eyes, his strong nose and square chin. His own gaze seemed to be tracing her own features in a similar manner, and neither twitched a muscle until a soft cough interrupted them.

"Jen," he said quickly, looking chagrined.

"Are you all done here, then?" she asked with forced politeness, giving Narcissa a strained smile.

"Yes, thank you. I- er, I hope you fell better soon, Mort. Rodtimer," she corrected, and hurried from the room and into the fireplace. However, she did not return to the cottage. If Lucius wouldn't be back for days, she may as well go back to the Malfoy Manor.

When she arrived, she quickly located the nanny and her son in the nursery.

"You can go for a while," Narcissa told her, lowering to the floor beside Draco. "And how's my little baby?" she cooed, wishing his sweet bablings could fully settle her flying thought and emotions.

* * *

Lucius stumbled into the cottage, eyes moving hopefully over the living area. He tossed his mask aside and began to free himself from his robes as he called out, "Narcissa!"

There was no reply. He frowned, striding into the next room. "Narcissa?"

She wasn't there, but he was not immediately concerned; he'd been gone for nearly twenty-four hours. She had, in all likelihood, returned home to their son. He flooed there directly, guessing correctly that she would be in the nursery.

He approached quietly, and leaned against the doorway to watched them unnoticed for several moments. There was a curious warmth in the pit of his stomach that he thought _might_ be happiness- that, at least, would explain why the to corners of his mouth were turning upwards, seemingly on their own accord.

Draco spotted him first, and cried out in delight. Narcissa turned too, but gave him only the most fleeting of smiles as she rose slowly.

"You're alright then? I was quite worried," she said in a rather distracted voice, placing Draco gently in his crib. Something in her tone concerned him, but he pushed his doubts aside.

"I'm fine," he murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist and dipping his head to kiss her. The second his lips touched hers, he knew something was wrong and released her instantly, stepping back. For a moment, just a moment, he had been forcibly reminded of their prior conjugal acts; her lips had been cool and unresponsive, and he felt as though she had thought the kiss both unwanted and invasive.

It was on the tip of his tongue to apologize, but he was not exactly sure for what he was meant to be sorry. He had left abruptly, yes, but she knew he'd had no choice in that- and certainly she had not been unwilling to kiss him before he'd Dissapparated! He shifted uncomfortably. Perhaps he should have not strode into the room and kissed her as he had. She was probably not ready for such familiarity yet, and he ducked his head, trying to hide the frustration he felt not towards her, but himself. He was new at this, and clearly not doing a very good job.

"I've sent the nanny home, and Severus was here a few minutes ago; I told him to leave as well. It seems obvious that we're not destined to have a honeymoon. Not yet, anyway."

Lucius longed to protest, but pressed his lips together and swallowed his words. He knew she did not mean 'honeymoon', she meant 'sex', and he tried to ignore the gnawing dismay that seemed to have quashed the budding happiness.

"Of course," he managed. "If you're not... ready, then... well, whenever you are..."

But _why _wasn't she ready? She had been ready twenty-four hours ago, and he'd completed his mission with impressive speed to return to her as quickly as possible. Confused but unwilling to let her see, he walked over to Draco's crib staring absently down at their son.

"I think I'll owl the owners of the gîte and ask that they send back our belongings.

"Its ours for another five days," Lucius reminded her. "We could wait, be sure that we really don't want to return..."

"I'm sure," Narcissa replied primly.

That evening, Narcissa had to fight the inexplicable urge to return to her own bedroom. She was being unreasonable, she knew, and one brief encounter with Mort should not have undone the progress she had made with Lucius- but somehow she'd managed to forget, or at least push aside, the memory of how his mere gaze could cause her stomach to somersault, or how the lightest brushes of his fingers could simultaneously drive her mad with desire and fill her with a sense of security.

She wanted Rodtimer. She had never stopped wanting him, and although she was beginning to like Lucius, it was nothing, _nothing,_ compared to the years she had spend with Mort. She didn't want to have to keep reminding herself not to be repulsed by Lucius's touch, she wanted the ease with which she could sink into Mort's arm. She didn't want the awkward silences and pauses between her husband and herself, she wanted the easy companionship of her soon-to-be-married lover and once-best friend. Her visit today had reminded her of that.

It wasn't Lucius's fault. She told herself that over and over again as she laid beside him in the darkness, curled on the edge of the matress. But still, a childish part of her could not help but to blame him; after all, if he'd never been born, then she'd be happily married to Mort right now.

Her mind quickly began to embellish the fantasy, as she saw herself as the one tending to his wounds, dabbing his forehead with a cool cloth, stroking his cheek tenderly as he rested-

"Narcissa?" Lucius's voice interrupted her thoughts, and she couldn't help a flash of irritation.

"Yes?"

There was a beat of silence. "May I kiss you good night?" he asked finally. He fought to keep his expression neutral, as though he truly did not care whether she replied 'yes' or 'no', but she was almost positive she heard a wavering of uncertainty in his voice.

"Good night, Lucius," she sighed, rolling over to press her lips to his. His head lifted slightly, eagerly, but Narcissa quickly pulled away. It was all she was willing to give him for tonight; she would need a few days to lock Mort once more into the deep recesses of her heart so she could plod on in her life without him.

* * *

Breakfast the next morning was a quiet affair. Every few minutes, Lucius paused as though he wished to say something, thought better of it, and resumed eating. However, once the meal was over, he did not vanish into his study to work, but instead took the _Daily Prophet _and followed his wife in son into the large playroom that held only a fraction of Draco's many, many toys. As Narcissa crawled about, amusing the child and giggling along with him, Lucius sat down and read the paper.

Narcissa felt uneasy with Lucius in the room. She was certain he was watching her every movement, but each time she glanced over her shoulder, his eyes were fixed innocently on the page before him. He made no explaination as to why he was not working, and did not attempt to engage her in idle chit-chat, but when she stood to take Draco up for a nap, he neatly folded the paper (something Narcissa had never been able to accomplish) and trailed after her.

In the nursery, Narcissa took as long as humanly possible to lay Draco down, make sure he had a snug grip on his favorite blanket, and kiss his forehead. She considered actually waiting for him to fall asleep, but Lucius, hovering in the doorway, asked quietly, "Do you think we could have a word, Narcissa?"

"Alright," she replied stiffly, reminding herself not to relieve her frustration by treating him cruelly. "What is it?"

"Not in here." He turned and walked the brief distance to their own bedroom, ushering her inside and closing the door. "Now," he began, not looking at her but placing the _Prophet _on a table and running his index finger along the crease, perfecting the edges. "I think that there is some you would like to tell me."

"No, there's not," she said stubbornly.

"Allow me rephrase myself: Tell me what it is that you are withholding that has so evidently unsettled you. You vowed that we would be honest with one another, Narcissa, and I cannot help but to feel that you are reneging upon that pledge." His words were formal and pedantic, and Narcissa recognized that he was uncomfortable.

"Just give it a few days," she sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed, "and I'll be fine."

"I'd rather not wait," he said quickly, both surprised and pleased that she had confessed to being unhappy about something. He moved towards her quickly, so quickly that the draft his body created caused the paper to flutter to the floor. For a moment he hesitated, obviously wishing to go sit by her, but instead turned back to pick up the _Prophet_ and return it carefully to the table.

It was too much for Narcissa.

"Oh, for Merlin's _sake!_" she cried. "Leave the bloody thing on the floor! You're being ridiculous! So what if your mother threw out a few socks when you were little and didn't put them away- get _over _it!"

For a moment, Lucius didn't reply. "It wasn't just a few socks," he said at last. Narcissa rolled her eyes.

"I'm so sorry," she bit back sarcastically. "A favorite T-shirt then, that you'd have grown out of in a year anyway?"

The topic was upsetting him, and she wasn't sure why- perhaps it had been more? A stuffed animal that he'd been particularly fond of? She hated to think what Draco would do if they took his little blanket away, and felt a moment of guilt. Before she could say anything, though, Lucius began to speak.

"If you must know, my uncle legally obtained a Snidget for me when I was four years old." His tone was efficient and detached, but he would not meet her eye as he spoke. "Capturing one in the wild is forbidden, and research upon them not obtaining to Quidditch is not widely known, but in fact Snidgets are very affectionate and friendly creatures. I enjoyed sitting on the floor with mine to feed it treats and engage in other childish games, so I would take its cage off the stand and return it when I was finished.

"When I was eight, I became ill with vanishing sickness. After the initial treatment at St. Mungo's, I was allowed to return home to recover fully, which essentially entails a great deal of rest and little activity. The treatment, you see, is quite exhaustive. So, as I was confined to my room and had little else to do, I brought the Snidget's cage to the floor as per usual. However, after a quarter of an hour, I was overcome with intense drowsiness, and returned to my bed for what I planned to be only a brief nap. Unfortunately, as I was still recuperating, I ended up sleeping through the entire afternoon and night, only to wake up the next morning to find that the cage, which I had so foolishly left out, and my Snidget with it, had vanished. Naturally, I was concerned, and asked my mother where they might be, and she told me that she simply could not permit be to fall into the habit of being untidy, even when I was ill, and so had been forced to do with my pet the same she had done with all the other- what was it that you said?- ah, yes, 'socks and T-shirts' that I'd so carlessly left out in the past." His tone was bitter, and he still refused to look at her. "Of course, to kill a Snidget is illegal, but I never could learn to whom she gave my bird."

Narcissa stared at him, lips parted and utterly speechless.

"If you don't want to disuss whatever is bothering you, suit yourself," Lucius snapped at last, and strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

(A/N: SORRY for the super long wait and SORRY for not making this the chapter that you all really wanted! (And that Lucius wanted, too :/ ) But it just didn't seem right, somehow, I mean they've only been working at their marriage for a couple weeks now (although it seems like months because that's what it's been taking me to write the chapters :P). And alsooo (haha, self-advertising, wooh!) if you are of legal age and wanting some Lucius/Narcissa M-Rated humor, I'd be thrilled if yu'd check out my new WIP, 'Early Days'. Remember, though, only if you're old enough. Now, don't forget, reviews are my joy (for any story, lol)! Thanks :))


	27. Chapter 27

"Lucius! Open the door..." she knocked again, but there was no reply. "Look, I didn't know, I'm sorry, just-"

"It's not locked," he called tersely from the other side of the door.

"Oh... Isn't it?" Narcissa turned the handle, and flushed. "Well, obviously I didn't want to just barge in here, uninvited."

"Aren't you?" he snapped, taking a deep drink from the whiskey he'd apparently just poured himself.

"Your mother was dreadful to you," she told him earnestly, moving closer. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize, you had nothing to do with it," he replied curtly, draining his tumbler and pouring himself another generous dose, refusing to meet her eye.

"Lucius," she sighed, reaching out to place a hand on his wrist.

"You're upset with me!" he exhaled sharply. "Damn it, Narcissa, you know I didn't _want _to leave."

"I know," she told him, grabbing his other wrist, as he had tranferred the glass to his other hand rather than shake off her touch. "If you really want to, I promise I'll never say another word about your tidyness."

"You know," he began, slightly defensive, "some people see being neat as a virtue."

"Of course," she assured him with a nod. "I'm trying, Lucius," she told him softly. "Every day."

"I'm trying to be... tolerable," he replied tightly, still unable to look at her.

"Oh, Lucius! You're wonderful. You _are,_" she insisted, for her own benefit as much as his. She released his wrist and reached up to rest her hand on his cheek. Standing on her toes, she pressed a brief peck to his lips. He relaxed slightly at the reassurance, and placed tentative fingers on her waist. Narcissa moved closer, shifing her body so it rested against his, and laid her head on his chest.

He was scarred. It was probably too late for her to heal him completely, but she could at least try to comfort him. Perhaps all he needed, really, was a bit of affection. She didn't love him, though she hoped one day she might, but she was starting to care for him, and didn't enjoy his obvious suffering.

_It can't be that difficult_, she told herself firmly as she grasped his hand and tugged gently, indicating that he should follow her. His eyes were questioning, but she stared resolutely ahead as they exited his study and headed back towards their bedroom.

"Narcissa-"

She shushed him and closed the door behind them, locking it more for effect than any real purpose. He was hovering uncertainly, so she pushed him lightly to the bed until he sat on its edge.

Narcissa walked carefully over to her jewellery box and removed both earrings and her necklace, laying them neatly inside and closing the lid. She reached around to tap her wand to the back of her neck, and the buttons that fastened her gown quickly undid themselves. Moving purposefully to her closet, and she slipped the sleeves from her arms and stepped from the skirt, and hung it neatly back up.

Lucius's eyes followed every movement, hardly daring to believe, half expecting her to reach for a night robe and ask him to leave so she could rest. But she did not; she lifted each dainty foot from its shoe and placed the delicate heels in place before closing the closet door.

"Now that we have that out of the way..." Her tone was businesslike as she swept across the room, practically nude, to where he waited. His fingers twitched as though he was physically restraining himself from touching her, longing but not daring to lay a hand on the dip of her waist, the silk of her hair.

_Come on, Lucius,_ she willed him silently, _touch me._

But he didn't. His fingers curled into fists on his knees and his eyes burned for her, but he would not close the tiny gap that separated them. _Not that he will not_, she realized, _but he cannot. _"Lucius," she sighed, letting her breath warm his cheek, her lips almost grazing his skin. He would have to do this, she'd given him all the encouragement he needed, but if he wanted to recover from the insecurity and uncertainty that made thier relationship so weak, he would have to reach out to her.

But still, he didn't. She drew away and saw that his eyes were clenched shut and his shoulders were trembling slightly. His face was wrought with indecision; he _wanted _her, desperately, but couldn't bear for her to pull away again, give him hope and then decide she wasn't truly ready. Above all, he did not want her to feel that he was forcing her into this.

_He will heal with time,_ Narcissa decided, leaning forward to kiss him. But not now, not yet. She would teach him that life was meant to be shared, that he was allowed to love her, that he was allowed to be human.

Tenderly, she increased the pressure on his shoulders. He sank back into the sheets and Narcissa followed close behind, wrapping her arms around his neck.

* * *

They should have had hours to lie in the heady after-glow of their love making, but real life prevailed. Draco would not nap terribly long, and they were both jerked guiltly out of their own light dozing by his persistent wails. Lucius made to rise but Narcissa was faster, untangling their bodies and rolling out from beneath the blankets. They dressed in hasty silence, and Narcissa feared that already the moment was slipping away. The thought of her own brazen behaviour threatened to make her blush, and after all, it was the middle of the day. Perhaps she should have at least waited until it grew dark? Never mind, it was too late now, and it hadn't felt awkward during the act, but-

Lucius turned around and the warmth in his gaze, the sedate, easy langor she'd never before witnessed in him, caused her to relax and smile. He grinned back, rather ruefully as his gazed flickered to the grand timepiece in the corner that indicated that it was barely past noon. _Eight hours until he goes back to bed,_ his eyes seemed to sigh wistfully, and Narcissa could scarely stifle a girlish giggle as she went to collect their pampered son.

"Wait," he called as she placed her hand on the knob to the nursery. She turned back to see him hurriedly tucking in his shirttail, as he advanced. He kissed her briefly but cheerfully. "I'm about two hours late for an appointment with Ms. Bagnold, but I'll tell her there was an emergency. People should stop catering to the Minister of Magic anyway; especially when she's doing such a bloody awful job of running the country. I'll be back for supper," he promised, kissing her once more, and murmuring against her lips, so quietly she wondered if she'd imagined it, "and dessert, too."

* * *

"Good morning, my wife."

Narcissa was woken the next morning by a showering of kisses along her neck, jaw, and shoulder. She blinked sleepily but smiled, reaching over to touch his cheek. It was utterly endearing the way he said 'my wife', his eyes shone with a joy she wouldn't have ever guessed him capable of.

"'Morning," she mumbled, deciding she could very easily get used to a sunrise routine that involved snuggling as she nuzzled her nose to his chest. His hand drifted lightly down her arm, but when his fingtips brushed her side, she couldn't resist a tiny gasp.

For a moment he paused, confused, but then it downed on him and he smiled. "You're ticklish."

"Yes," she agreed. "Aren't you?"

The was another beat of silence, before he confessed, unwillingly, "I'm not sure."

Narcissa giggled. "Think I won't see through that? It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know." She drew back to see his face, but he was frowning. Her lips parted in surprise. "You really don't know! How can you not know?"

_How _could _he know? _her mind supplied immediately. Neither of his parents treated him playfully as a child, and she doubted anyone would have the nerve to touch him at school, let alone tickle him...

Pushing aside the wave of pity that threatened to ruin their morning, Narcissa placed her hand on his abdomen and let her fingers dart lightly. His eyes widened and he gave a brief chuckle. Narcissa crawled over him, pinning him down and moving her flitting graze to his sides, and he laughed.

Instantly, Narcissa was shocked into stillness, and this caused his laughter to dissappate immediately. It was heartbreaking to see how close his insecurity lurked beneath his happiness, as his eyes searched her face for a sign of what he'd done wrong.

"Do it again," she demanded, beginning to tickle him once more. A grin flashed over his features but he was concerned, and stilled her hands.

"Do what?"

"Laugh!" she exclaimed. His brow creased in confusion and Narcissa gave a little huff. She pitched forward to kiss him, waiting until he relaxed enough to stroke her hip in lazy contentment. Then, she attacked once more.

"Wha- Narcissa!" within moments, he was laughing again, and she felt her own giddy response to the sound- and what a sound it was! Rich and deep, from somewhere deep in his chest, totally unfamiliar to her. She'd never imagined his laugh before, but it was entirely extraordinary. She wondered if he realized how delightful it was; probably not, or he'd find reasons to do it all the time, if only for those around him to enjoy. Her own bright peals mingled with his canorous laugh, and she felt an unexpected swell of affection.

_Perhaps this won't be difficult, after all._

* * *

(A/N: Lucius gets what he wants at last. Maybe it shall inspire many reviews?:) Pretty please?)


	28. Chapter 28

"Tell me a secret."

One grey eye flickered open lazily. "Hm?"

"A secret. Tell me one." Narcissa propped her chin on his chest, grinning. Lucius lifted his head to kiss her briefly.

"What would you like to know?" he asked, stroking her hair softly.

"Oh, just anything. Something most people don't."

He paused, thinking. Narcissa decided to narrow the topic.

"How about something you've always wanted?"

"You," he replied immediately.

"No," Narcissa said, smiling despite herself. "Something else. Did you ever want... Oh, I don't know, to be a Healer when you were little?"

"No."

"That's just an example. Perhaps you dreamed of being a Quidditch Captain from an early age?"

"I _was _a Quidditch Captain. And Head Boy. And the top of my year." He listed these without enthusiasm.

"Something you really wanted," she persisted.

Lucius exhaled slowly, brow creased as he stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. "Well... I always did want a daughter."

Instantly, his eyes raced guiltily to her face. "I'm sorry," he blurted. "I wasn't thinking. That was unpardonably insensitive of me-"

"Hush." She laid a finger lightly across his lips. "I'm not upset. You're right, a daughter would have been wonderful. Although I love Draco more than the world..."

"As do I," he agreed quickly. She rested her cheek once more to his chest, content.

"Your turn," he prompted.

"My turn?" she echoed, confused.

"Yes. To tell a secret."

Narcissa frowned. She had not planned to reciprocate; she had merely wished to learn a bit more about him.

"What did you want when you were younger?"

She closed her eyes. Her past was so inextricably tangled with Mort, she wished he wouldn't ask, but perhaps there was something...

"When I was five, I wanted a unicorn."

"A unicorn?"

"Yes. I Outgrew that with when I was about nine, though. Then I just wanted nice clothes and pretty jewels," she teased.

"If you still wanted one-" His gaze flicked to a large window, out of the expanse of green. "We have plenty of space."

"No, Lucius," she giggled, placing a tiny peck on his jaw. "But it's sweet of you to offer."

* * *

"Interesting bit of post today," Lucius informed her over Draco's loud babbling as they sat eating supper.

"Oh?" Narcissa glanced up, curious.

"A wedding invitation." He passed a piece of parchment over, which she read with interest.

"Evan Rosier and Caroline Lestrange? Really? I wonder how Rodolphus feels about that."

"I'd imagine he's not pleased. Your selfish sister, on the otherhand, will be delighted. Read down a bit more."

Narcissa did, and frowned. "She wants me to be a bridesmaid? But I've only ever met her once!"

"That's one more time then she'll probably have met most of the guests," Lucius told her logically.

"I suppose..." she agreed with a frown. "Well, I may as well tell her we're coming. Aren't we?" she checked.

"I'd imagine so, although I fear it will be a torturous affair."

"Well there'll probably be plently of alcohol," she teased.

"We should keep Rodolphus away from it. It takes a lot to get him drunk, but once he is, it's a mess."

"I'd imagine," she agreed, rising to write a reply.

* * *

"Cissy, dear, just_ splendid_ to see you again!"

Narcissa could not entirely hide her confusion as Lysandra enveloped her in a hug.

"How have you been?" she continued to gush, drawing away but still keeping a firm hold on Narcissa's arm. "You look lovely, by the way- what a wonderful color that is for you! I hope our bridesmaids dresses aren't dreadful, but I suppose we'll see today, won't we? Lucius, do you mind if I steal your _dear _wife away for a moment? Thanks."

Lucius was frowning slightly as Narcissa was lead away, and Narcissa glanced over her shoulder with a baffled, apologetic little shrug.

"So, how have you been? This wedding is something, isn't it? Unexpected, that is- I only met little Carolina a time or two!"

"Er... I think it's 'Caroline,'" Narcissa muttered uncertainly.

"Oh, yes, of course! Is that not what I said? Oh, well anyway, I feel bad that we haven't talked more. You and Rabby were pretty close in school, isn't that right?"

"Yes, we were very close. He was like a brother to me for years."

"That's lovely. Now, I think all of us girls are back here- except the actual bride, of course! Funny, the bride herself not being at the rehersal! Well, I suppose the girl needs her rest, doesn't she? Big day tomorrow. I wonder how Evan feels about her frailty. She can't have any children, you know. Not that that's too bad- ruin a figure don't they? Not yours, of course," she added quickly. "Looking at you, no one would ever guess you had a baby! You were lucky though- a boy right away! You know," she dropped her tone to a conspiratorial whisper, "Rabby's asked me to marry him. Just yesterday!"

"Oh, congratulations!" Narcissa smiled, genuinely pleased. "I know that Rabastan is very in love with you; you two will be so happy!"

"I know," Lysandra replied, grinning. "We don't want a long engagement, so we're getting married next month!"

"I'm very happy for you," Narcissa told her sincerely. "He's such a good person."

"Yes," she agreed. "So I'm having a little luncheon, not tomorrow but the next day. Just some girls, but feel free to bring Draco, if you'd like. Actually," she continued, "Rabby's having some friends over- they'll be off talking about boy things, politics I suppose, so why don't you and Lucius both come? It'll be fun."

"Er... Alright."

"Wonderful. Now-"

"Lucius!"

Both women turned at the cry, and Narcissa turned in time to see Beatrice fling herself into her brother's arms. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy followed far more dignity, and Terentia trudged in behind them, looking sullen.

"Sorry I haven't owled in ages," the girl continued, arms still tightly around Lucius's neck. "We've been travelling. How have you been?"

"I've been well, Tricey," he assured her quietly, but did not elaborate. She drew back at last, still not releasing him, but drawing back to see his face.

"'Well?'" she repeated questioningly. He placed an affectionate peck on her forehead and gently untangled her grasp.

"Indeed. Mother, Father, Terentia," he nodded to each of them in turn.

"Hello, son," Aethel gave him a cool smile and strode past with only a brief nod to Narcissa, instead greeting Melvia Lestrange with a friendly embrace and the two began to chat merrily. Terentia followed her mother without a word to either her brother or his wife.

"Hello, Lucius." Abraxas clasped his son's hand warmly and clapped his shoulder, grinning as he drew away. "Dear Narcissa," he continued, holding out his arms. Perhaps Lucius hated him, but Narcissa couldn't help but to smile and hug him.

"How have you two been? How's my grandson?"

"Oh, we're all fine," Narcissa told him quickly. "Draco's just wonderful. Are you all staying at the Manor tonight? He'll be asleep, of course, but you can see him tomorrow morning."

"That would be lovely," Abraxas assured her. "Now, let's enjoy this supper, shall we?"

Narcissa nodded and started forward, but had only taken a step when Bellatrix rushed over.

"Cissy! Darling, you look all happy!" she laughed, grabbing her sister's arm. "It's the sex, isn't it? I always though Lucius would be terribly boring in bed but-"

"Bellatrix!" Narcissa hissed in alarm, dragging her sister away from the guests. "Bella, you can _say_ things like that!" she continued once they were out of earshot.

"Why not?" Bellatrix asked, genuinely confused. "Oh! Unless it's not Lucius! Cissy, you sneaky little- is it the Yaxley boy? He'll be at the wedding tomorrow- how fun! Or someone I don't know?"

"Be quiet, Bellatrix," Narcissa snapped coldly. "Of course it's Lucius. How's _your _husband handling all this, while we're on the subject of infidelity?"

"Oh," she waved an airy hand. "You know Roddy. He's over there in the corner, sulking like a petulant little boy."

Narcissa glanced in the direction she'd indicated, frowning. Rodolphus didn't look like a child in her opinion; he looked like a man in a great deal of pain as he silently watched the proceedings of the night.

"He's upset, Bella," Narcissa said quietly. "He's worried about Caroline and he hates Evan... Well," she shot her sister a disgusted glare. "That's your fault."

"Lighten up, Cissy. He'll get over it."

"He loves you, you know- why are you so cruel to him?"

Bellatrix shot her an incredulous look. "Would you like to be the cauldron or kettle here, Cissy? You think I don't know it kills Lucius that you're pining after Yaxley?"

"Totally different situation," she said quickly, flushing and looking back over to Rodolphus. He was talking with Rabastan now, who seemed to be trying to coax him away from the wall. Rodolphus made a sharp retort, and Rabastan turned away with a shrug, clearly losing interest. He'd never much liked his older brother anyway.

"I'm going to to have quick word with Rabastan," Narcissa said quickly, slipping away from her sister. However, she did not follow her friend; she went instead to the spot where he'd been standing moments before.

"Hello, Rodolphus," she said quietly. "Lovely weather we've been having, isn't it?"

Rodolphus snorted and took a swig from the tumbler in his hand, not bothering to look at her. "I know you've never liked me, Narcissa, and tonight's not the best night to start."

"How's Caroline?" she pressed.

"Well, she's ecstatic, isn't she? But she's sleeping now. Really, Narcissa," he took another deep gulp of the amber liquid, "go away."

"You needn't be so rude," she sniffed.

"What do you want me to say?" he snarled. "That I've been betrayed by someone meant to be a friend? Sure. That I think my sister will be dead soon? Absolutely. And my wife-" he stopped, and shook his head. "I really don't want to discuss this."

"I understand you're upset- I think you're justified in being so, even if my sister and your sister and Evan won't acknowledge it. I thought that might be of some comfort."

"You know," he turned his head to look at her for the first time. "You're a good kid, Cissy. But go take care of your own husband, yeah?" His eyes sought Lucius, who seemed to be conversing uncomfortably with his father. "He's even more fucked up than I am." Rodolphus shook his head again, drained his glass, and went off for another.

* * *

"Lucius?"

"Hm?"

"Are you unhappy that your family is here?" Narcissa emerged from the bathroom. Lucius was sprawled on the bed with his hands tucked behind his head, scowling at the ceiling.

"Hm."

"They're only going to be here a few days," she reminded him, crawling across the matress to flop beside him and blowing a strand of hair off his forehead. He did not reply. "Knut for your thoughts," she cajoled, stroking his neck and shoulder.

He paused but she waited patiently. Narcissa was certain that he'd eventually come to share his innermost thoughts with her, but it was not yet something he was accustomed to.

"My father..." he started haltingly. "He didn't let me know that he'd be here; that they'd all be here. He still thinks of this as his home, and that we're just children, or guests..." he exhaled sharply. "I certainly hope he does not intend to ask us to leave."

"We can't leave!" Narcissa exclaimed, sitting up. "This is _our_ home now!"

"I quite agree, although there would be little legal grounds for us to stay should he ask us to vacate." He placed a warm hand at the base of her spine. "Lie down, darling. It was only a thought."

She obeyed, smiling at the term of endearment he seemed to have not noticed using. Undoubtedly he called her by pet names in his mind, but was tentative about using them. She curled up to him, and he lifted his head to kiss her.

"Lucius-"

He looked up, startled, as the bedroom door swung open. Beatrice poked her head inside. Her eyes grew huge when she realized her brother was not alone, and she immediately withdrew, closing the door behind her.

"Tricey," he called, already sitting up and climbing out of bed, reaching for his robe. "I'll just be a moment," he promised Narcissa, and swept from the room.

"Tricey," he repeated, moving down the hall until he reached her room. "Open the door, Beatrice."

After a moment, the lock clicked and she peeked out at him timidly. She was seventeen years old now, but with her hair in a long plait down her back and a childish white flannel nightgown on, she looked much younger.

"Lucius..." she whispered. "I made a horrible mistake, didn't I?"

"Yes." He did not bother softening the truth.

"I wanted to hurt her because you couldn't. I wasn't sad when she lost the baby. I thought that if she couldn't have children, you would be able to leave her, find someone who loved you. She was horrible to you," she reminded him. "I didn't know that you would be happy with her." She blinked rapidly, before crying at last, "I'm so _sorry,_ Lucius!"

"I know," he told her quietly. "I know you are. And you know I have not remained upset with you. However, you must apologize to Narcissa."

"She won't forgive me," Beatrice predicted quickly.

"Probably not. But you still must do it."

She scowled. "Fine."

Lucius quirked one eyebrow as she brushed past him, but she did not look back at him. Instead, Beatrice strode down the hallway and pushed open her brother's bedroom again.

Narcissa glanced up, surprised, and Beatrice closed the door behind her.

"I'm sorry that I pushed you. I still don't like you, though."

"I don't like you either," Narcissa replied coolly. "And if you've come in here to insult me, I'd rather that you leave."

"I came in here tell you-" her eyes flashed momentarily, but the anger immediately drained from her face, and she slumped against the door. "He's broken, you know? He's always been broken. You don't have to fix him- I don't think anyone can- just don't break him anymore, alright?"

"He's not broken," Narcissa contradicted swiftly. "Or... if he is, it's not permanent condition."

"You can put him together, wrap him up in Spello-tape, and he might look perfectly fine, but he's never been whole to begin with. So you have to either leave him alone, or keep your promises." She took a step closer to Narcissa, her gaze intense. "I know all about Rodtimer Yaxley. You're in love with him still, I can see it on your face just when I say his name. If you'd choose him over my brother, then leave Lucius alone. If you break him any more..." she shook her head despairingly. "He tries so hard. But he has limits. He's only human."

Narcissa regarded her for several long moments, before asking quietly, "You really love your brother, don't you?"

Beatrice nodded vigorously. "I do. And I wish he hadn't had to marry you. Anyone else would have felt lucky to be his wife, and he got stuck with the one pureblood girl in all of Europe who hated him just for existing. So think about it carefully: if Rodtimer Yaxley came along tomorrow and asked you to run away with him, would you do it?"

_Yes. _Narcissa's expression remained impassive.

"Because if you would, then don't let Lucius fall any more in love with you. I just hope it's not too late now." Beatrice shook her head and turned away, resting her hand on the doorknob for a moment. "Good night, Narcissa."

She slipped out of the room and Lucius came in a moment later, looking somewhat hopeful.

"We're still not friends," she told him quickly. "We don't like each other."

He looked disappointed, but not surprised as he settled into bed beside her. "Understandable. And I won't ask her to stay any longer than the ceremony- assuming that my father does not invite all of them to stay indefinitely."

"I'm sure he won't," Narcissa assured him, rolling over and kissing him.

He kissed her back, and Narcissa wrapped her arms around him securely, trying to push Beatrice's words from her mind.

_It's not as though I'll have the opportunity to leave him for Mort. It's not as though I'll _never_ love Lucius. _


	29. Chapter 29

"Well... It was a lovely ceremony," Narcissa sighed as she kicked her shoes off and flopped onto the bed. Lucius snorted as he dropped his cufflinks tidily into a box and shrugged off his robes.

"It was a nightmare. I hope Rodolphus doesn't do anything stupid. Like kill Evan."

"Don't you think that, if he was going to kill Evan, he would have done it after the reception when he smashed the champagne glass over his head?"

Lucius sighed and pulled off his shirt and draped it over a chair to be collected by the elves. "No. More than likely he's biding his time." He walked over to the closet to put his shoes away and hang up his belt. Narcissa watched his restless movements patiently. "Are you sleeping like that?" he asked as he finished undressing and approached the bed. She grinned up at him.

"No, but I'm _terribly_ sleepy- take my clothes off for me?" she rolled onto her stomach and twitched her chin towards the button closures running down her spine. After a moment's hesitation, he nodded, and began unfastening her dress with a clinical indifference. Immediately, she stopped him. "Lucius," she murmured, twisting around and lifting herself to kiss him. "In case you're unclear," she whispered against his lips, "that meant 'Let's have sex.'" She kissed him again and settled onto her stomach once more. Instantly, the hands on her back became warm and caressing, running down her spine and pressing warm kisses to the smooth skin there. She rolled over and smiled lazily up at him as he buried his face in her neck. Her head fell to the side, but her mindless contentment evaporated as she caught sight of his left arm as he braced himself above her.

"Narcissa, I lo-"

"It's so ugly," she blurted at the same moment. "Sorry- what were you saying?"

"Nothing," he replied guiltily, but frowning as her words registered. "What's ugly?"

"That." She nodded at his arm and began to sit up, giving him no choice but to rise as well. As he attempted to pull his arm away, she seized his wrist, examining the Mark closely.

"Narcissa," he tugged gently, trying in vain to persuade her to release him.

Curious, she reached out to stroke the grotesque tattoo, but he yanked his arm back, tone sharp as he hissed, "_Don't!_"

Narcissa's eyes widened and she blinked in shock. However, she recovered and folded her hands in her lap. "Alright. Will it hurt you if I do?"

He didn't reply, refusing to meet her eye.

"Lucius..." she crawled forward to stroke his cheek. "Tell me about it."

"No." His voice was quiet but in no way uncertain.

"Lucius, I want to know," she persisted, scooting even closer, so that she was nearly in his lap. Lips pressed tightly together, he shook his head. "Lucius,"

"_No!_" For a moment, just a second, he was the same figure that had terrified her throughout her years of school and the early days of their marriage, fearsome and heartless and overpoweringly cold. She tumbled away from him and was out of bed before she'd thought twice. Immediately, his expression turned regretful, and he held out a hand in hopes of coaxing her back. She did not accept the offer. He let the hand fall.

"I'm sorry, Narcissa. I-" he broke off abruptly, rubbing his face and exhaling sharply. "Fuck it. I seem to spend half my time apologizing these days. I'm not sorry. This isn't something between the two of us. You aren't involved in this. I won't tell you about it."

"We promised to tell each other everything."

There was a long stretch of silence. Lucius did not respond.

"I didn't think this would be so difficult," Narcissa confessed at last. "I thought once I took that first step, everything would fall into place, you know? That it would turn out we were really just perfect for each other and I was just being stubborn. It's not so easy as all that, is it?"

Lucius turned away, rising and walking over to stare out the windows into the blackness of the night. His arms were crossed and his shoulders tense, and when he finally replied, his words were clipped and void of feeling. "Yes, I suppose it can be difficult to love me, can't it? Someone so... what was it you used to tell your sister I was? Scarcely human? Something along that line..."

"Don't bring that up! It was a long time ago, things are different now. It's just that we're very different people, Lucius, our personalities just don't... don't mesh, easily. I'm not saying we can't fall in love, we're just not..." _Soul mates. Meant for each other. _"Well. We just need to learn, is all."

"'_We' _don't need to learn anything. I love you. I love you so much that I look at you and I can't breathe. It causes me physical pain, seeing you, touching you, making love to you and knowing that, sure, you like me well enough, but that you wish it was him, and you'd still choose him. In a heartbeat. Over not just me, but our son. I know what it's like to love someone more than myself, and I know that's how you feel about him, but that you love him more than both yourself and whatever part of me you see in Draco... Narcissa-" he broke off, resting his forehead against the windowpane, his breath fogging the glass. "I try not to tell you how much I love you. It's on the tip of my tongue every moment of every day. I want to be allowed to love you, to kiss you in the morning without wondering if it will be a morning when you dreamt about him the night before, if you'll pull away, just for a second, because you don't want to wake up beside me.

"I won't tell you about what I've done, what I still do, because I cannot let that world touch you or our son. It's to better our way of life, and you know that. You don't love me; there is no implicit understanding or forgiveness between us. You would not forgive me my crimes. You'd never let me touch you again. And I can't... I can't go back to living like we were before. If you'd never wanted to try, I would have survived, but now..." he stopped, and drew a ragged breath. "I have nothing left to give you. I cannot love you more. You have all the riches you could ever want at your fingertips. I have offered you freedom at my own expense. I kept everything to myself for the longest time, but then you wanted it all and I gave it freely, gladly, hoping that it would bring you happiness. It has not and I have nothing left. I cannot change who I was born as, though Merlin knows I would if I could and you asked it of me. I can do nothing more than wait and hope that one day you will decide to love me, too. I am begining to see, however, that that day is unlikely to come. So maybe one day it will just be enough for you. Enough that you can make it through one day without struggling to smile because you think it will appease me, enough that you will accept the life you have been given. It's not a life I want you to have, but it's the best I can do."

Narcissa blinked, reallizing only when he fell silent that tears were streaming down her face.

"It's not a matter of _choice,_" she told him thickly. "Of course I would _choose_ to love you- why would I want to love someone else? It's just-"

"That you _can't_," Lucius interjected bitterly.

"You're not unlovable, so stop trying to act as though that's the problem. I _will_. I _will _love you."

"When, Narcissa?" he asked softly, fist resting against the cool glass.

"I don't..." she grit her teeth in frustration. "I don't know, Lucius."

He sighed and drew away from the window at last, not meeting her eyes as he returned to bed. "If you'd like, you may sleep elsewhere. I do not want you to feel obligated to stay in here."

"I want to. You know I want to- do you really not see the progess we've made?" she demanded, anger lashing out as she sat abruptly back on the edge of the be beside him. "Don't tell me about being a Death Eater; that's fine. But don't tell me you love me and then to go sleep somewhere else, because that _isn't _fine. I'm your wife. It doesn't matter who made that decision or how either of us feel about it, because despite what you believe, I care for you and I _adore _our son, and I would never abandon you both; not now." Narcissa was pleased with how certain she sounded.

"Forget I said anything," he replied icily. "Continue with your 'progress' and if forget that I love you; please, just don't ask about _this,"_ he gestured to his left forearm, "again."

As he lay down, facing away from her, Narcissa stuggled to understand the sick, panicked feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her mind was screaming that she _couldn't_ let him go to sleep angry with her; that they needed to fix things right now lest this be one more festering sore between them.

"Lucius-" Of course, there was a way she would always win. Starved of physical contact his entire life, it was impossible for him to shake her off or brush her aside when she reached out to touch him. And this was precisely what she did; running her hand from his shoulder to his fingertips, stroking his back and kissing his neck. It was only a moment before her rolled over and pulled her into his arms, her touch far more reassuring to him than words could ever be, even if it was just as much of a lie.

* * *

"Cissy! Oh, and I see you've brought Draco. Glad you could make it!"

"Er, yes. Hello." Narcissa smiled at Lysandra, still unsure of what to do with the sudden friendliness.

"Well, dear, come meet everyone. Lucius, all the men are meeting in Rabby's study down the hall. Now, come alond to the veranda, Cissy. This is Cathleen Crouch, Briony Aubrey, Laetitia Avery, Renata Baddock, and..." she paused at the last woman, and there was obvious dislike in her voice as she dismissively announced, "Adrienne MacDougal."

"Call me Ari, and Lysandra, it's been Parkinson for over a year now." She smiled blandly at Lysandra but gave Narcissa true grin.

"Ah, yes, silly me, old habits, you know... Dear Narcissa, _do _come sit between me and Lettie."

Laetitia moved aside to allow andelf to bring another low, wicker chair for Narcissa. As soon as she was seated, however, Ari sprang to her feet, and Narcissa noticed for the first time that the young woman was the only other lady at the table with a child.

"If you'll all excuse me for a moment, Pansy's fussing again..."

As soon as she was out of earshot, the other women began talking rapidly.

"What a dreadful mother, that baby's _always _fussing-"

"- that girl's atrocious _hair,_ she wears it so short. I don't know why her husband lets her-"

"Girls, girls," Lysandra silenced them. "Cissy doesn't know about Adrienne yet."

Cathleen leaned forward, eyes narrowed with dislike. "She's only just out of Hogwarts. With a _baby_ already. She's not a proper lady with a respectable child like you, Narcissa- Draco is a beautiful little boy, by the way. No, her husband, Britt Parkinson, well he only married her because he got her pregnant!"

"Now," scolded Briony lightly, "You mustn't say such crude things. Although Britt _is _twenty nine, a decade older than she is, and before he got engage to that dreadful little girl..." She glanced over at Laetitia sympathetically, placing a hand on her friend's arm. "Our dear Lettie was expecting a proposal any day. But because darling Lettie behaved herself as a proper lady and not some wanton little-"

"Bree, language, we're all ladies here," Lysandra chided breezily. "The only reason she's here today is that Rabby's good friend's with Britt, and insisted that both he and his wife _and_ their little brat come along."

As soon as she finished, Ari reappeared around the corner. "Did I miss anything?" she asked expectantly, glacing around the table.

"No, not at all. I believe Narcissa was just telling us all where she got those _gorgeous _robes."

"Oh, er, right," Narcissa replied uncomfortably. "My sister actually sent it from Paris. She's... er... on holiday there."

"Ooh, your sister Bellatrix?" Cathleen leaned forward, eyes bright. "We were in the same year at Hogwarts. She married Lyssa's terrifying brother-in-law, didn't she?"

"Rodolphus is just a nightmare," Lysandra groaned, and Narcissa founded herself nodding earnestly in agreement. "I hate it when he visits. He yells and he breaks things I _know_ Rabby can hardly stand being around him..."

"I think he's funny," Ari offered lightly and unexpectedly, taking a daintly sip of tea. "Britt invites him over some times, and they drink and get pissed and have just a riot of a time." She smiled widely but without emotion. The other women exchanged looks, and Lysandra quickly changed the topic.

"So, is everybody looking forward to the ball next week the the new Rosiers are hosting? I would have thought the new little Mrs. Rosier wouldn't be up to an event so soon after her wedding, but I suppose we'll see..."

"Does anyone else wonder how they have sex?" Ari piped up. "I mean honestly, if the tiniest little noise could startle her into cardiac arrest- how bad must Evan be?"

Narcissa's fingers flew to her mouth. Several of the others gasped. _Oh, Merlin,_ she covered her mouth with both hands. _I mustn't giggle. The mustn't see me smile. _Narcissa bit her lip, hard, hoping the pain would take the shimmer of laughter from her eyes.

"I should go put Draco down for a nap," she managed, rising to her feet, almost losing her composure at the sight of Cathleen's outrageously offended expression.

"Yes, Pansy's getting a bit sleepy too." Ari rose as well, her own grin barely concealed. "Is there a room we might borrow?"

"Upstairs second left," Lysandra hissed, eyes mutinous.

"Thanks!"

The two women left in silence, but once they were safely away from the others, Ari turned to address Narcissa.

"I hope you won't listen to what they say about me. I'm really not a monster, and Britt hardly said three words to that awful Laetitia in his whole life. She's just not used to men acknowledging her at all, because she has such a viscious reputation. Britt was only being polite; the notion that he wanted marry her is absurd." She pushed open the door Lysandra had described. "I know I'm years younger, but that doesn't_ matter. _Their logic is stupid- I wasn't pregant until five months after Britt and I married, they just can't count. Or won't. Neither would surprise me. But you seem much lovlier than any of them; I like you. You needn't say anything, I don't wish to make you uncomfortable-" she stifled a giggle. "I just like making _them _uncomfortable, the hypocrites. As if they don't wonder the same things. As if Cathleen didn't sleep with Rodolphus before he married your sister!" Immediately Ari burst into peals of laughter. "She wanted to marry him so badly, she followed him around at parties and social events until his wedding! And now, acting as though she's as scared of his as everyone else..."

Narcissa felt herself beginning to laugh as well, but fought to quell it. It wouldn't do to laugh at Rabastan's wife's friends. She owed that to her oldest friend.

"As though Lysandra and Renata weren't talking before the wedding about Evan and Caroline fucking- oh, look, there's a balcony. D'you mind if I smoke?"

"I... suppose not?"

"I swore I'd quit after I got pregnant, and I mostly did- didn't have a single one while I was, but being around these five..." she shook her head, causing her bobbed black hair to bounce as she headed outside. Narcissa followed.

"So, how did you and Britt meet, then?"

"Oh, he was a friend of my oldest brother. We met when I was eight, right after he graduated Hogwarts."

Narcissa's eyebrows raised involuntarily and Ari's gave a wry smile as she exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"I get that reaction a lot. It sounds strange, I know, but it just _feels_ so perfect..." She smiled blissfully at Narcissa, and the blonde's hesitation immediately evaporated. She was intimately familiar with that look, alothough she herself had not worn it for some time.

"Anyway, let's get back to the vipers." Ari hastily extinguished her cigarette. "You won't want to hang around me too much when they can see- It won't do to spoil your pristine reputation by being around the likes of _me._" Ari gave a short laugh. "But seriously, do feel free to owl anytime- like I said, Narcissa, I think I quite like you."

As they approached the porch once more, Narcissa recognized a new voice. She couldn't place it, but when the sixth woman came in to view, her stomach gave an unpleasant lurch and she stumbled to a halt.

"Jen, darling, do you know Narcissa Malfoy?"

"Oh, yes," Jennifer Yaxley replied with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I know her. Lovely to see you again, Narcissa."

"Rabby and Jen's husband are just such good friends," Lysandra told Narcissa.

"Oh, she knows," Jen interrupted mildly.

"You would, wouldn't you?" Lysandra said with a little laugh. "You and Rabby being so close in your school years..."

"And she dated my husband, didn't you? Well," Jen took an innocent sip of tea. "I'm sure you're perfectly happy with Lucius, but I consider myself lucky that you gave him up!"

"I... of course. I'm quite happy with Lucius. And I'm happy for you, too."

"Is that Cissy I hear?" All the women turned as Rabastan appeared with the rest of the men, smiling. Narcissa leapt to her feet to embrace him, more thankful than she could possibly convey for the intrusion.

"We're all finished discussing business, and couldn't bear to be away from you lovely women any longer," he continued, patting Narcissa's back before drawing away to give his wife a peck on the cheek. "Lysandra, my love."

Lysanddra nodded coolly, clearly displeased despite the evident adoration in his gaze as he regarded her. Narcissa watched the group curiously. A tall, handsome man she didn't recognize brushed past the others to pull Ari into is arms, the look of pure joy in his eyes immediately lending proof to Ari's version of their love. Lucius was standing towards the back; not so far as to seem awkward, but just enough to unconciously remind everyone that he was slighly superior, even when surrounded by peers.

_Merlin, no wonder nobody likes him. _Narcissa smiled and walked determinedly over to him, linking her arm through his.

"Darling, I've just put Draco down for a nap."

He nodded, but was watching her with intent suspicion, as though waiting for something.

_Surely he doesn't expect me to kiss him. _What did he want? They were in public, he couldn't think she'd do any more than hold his arm-- they weren't _that_ kind of couple...

Maybe it was something else. Maybe he'd wanted Draco down here so they could leave right away? Actually, that was a good idea. Maybe she could say she heard him crying and go fetch him... Lysandra would probably say she, too, was a poor mother, but at this point hardly cared...

"Er, hello, Cissy."

She glanced up in surprise, noticing for the first time that Rodtimer was hovering not a meter away.

"Mort!" she exclaimed, suddenly at a loss. How could she not have seen him the moment he walked into the room? Her eyes had always been drawn to him like a magnet, she could always sense his presence. She'd even just seen his wife, after all, and known full well he was here! He was the love of her life, after all!

_Anyway. So he's here._

Narcissa couldn't understand her numb apathy, but moved forward to embrace him regardless. That must be it- numbness that comes with shock. She'd be breathless and estactic soon enough, especially once she melted into his arms, fitting like two puzzle pieces.

Except he was sort of pulling her hair the way his arm was around her shoulder. Never mind that- surely she couldn't feel the discomfort though her joy. Only... _ouch- _she could, and if he squeezed her any tighter she might suffocate. Besides, he seemed to be wearing an inordinate amount of aftershave. Patiently, Narcissa held her breath and waited; it was a small price to pay for holding the love of her life again.

Speaking of which, how long was this going to go on? Undoubtedly Jennifer would be interrupting any moment, the dreadful woman.

Why wasn't she interrupting?

"It's wonderful to see you," Narcissa said from his shoulder. Her drew away, grinning, and Narcissa felt a flutter in her chest. _There we go. That's better._

"You look beautiful, Cissy. How's Draco?"

"Oh, getting bigger every day!" she replied with a laugh. "He's just the best little boy."

"That's great." For a moment they were silent.

"Anyway, how have you been? You and Rabastan still spend time together?"

"Oh yeah, loads. And Lysandra's a sweetheart, isn't she? Glad he's done so well for himself."

"Yes, me too." Narcissa's eyes sought the large timepiece on mantle. "Is it really three thirty? Goodness, Lucius, we have to go! Remember that... thing... you have to do?"

"Ah, yes, the meeting with Madam Marchbanks in regards to Draco's primary schooling. Thank you for reminding me, dear. Look, the elves are already here with your cape." He held it up and she stepped back so he could drape it over her shoulders. As he fastened it, he place he placed his lips to her ear and murmured, "You're the worst liar I've ever seen. Are you sure they put you in Slytherin?"

Narcissa laughed and swatted his hands aside. "I'll go get the baby. Give our apologies, won't you?"

"Of course."

"Leaving already?" Lysandra drifted over, looking put out. "The afternoon's barely started! Well then I must insist, Narcissa, that you come over Sunday afternoon. It'll just be the two of us, and I would so like to get to know you better."

"I'll be looking forward to it, and thank you for a lovely time today."

* * *

(A/N: Adrienne (Ari) is borrowed with permission from PeevesthePoltergeist, with some obvious changes of my own. Sorry for the long wait, everybody!)


	30. Chapter 30

"Thank you so, _so _much Lucius. That promised to be the _worst_ afternoon of my entire life," she sighed as they arrived at the Manor. Draco had not woken from his nap, and she headed upstairs to put him back to bed. Lucius followed, silent but seeming as cheerful as she to be out of there.

"Honestly, those girls were just dreadful- spiteful and catty. I suppose I'll still go to see Lysandra again though; maybe she's better away from the others. After all, Rabastan married her, and he's such a darling. So you know Britt Parkinson? I met his wife, Ari, and _she _seems really wonderful, if a bit crude. And young. Ten years I suppose isn't such an age gap in the long run, but Merlin, when she said they first met when they were eight and eighteen! Well, never mind that. I-"

"Narcissa," Lucius cut her off softly, lounging carelessly against the doorframe as she turned from Draco's crib.

"Yes?"

"Come here." He held out his hand and she crossed the room to take it, allowing herself to be gently led into the corridor.

"Is something wrong?"

Lucius closed the door to the nursery behind her. "No. I was just wondering, since we are both free this evening, if you would care to accompany me to supper in London."

"That'd be fun! Let's see, which of the nice ones are child-friendly? Not _Somteaux, _not-"

"Narcissa. I meant without Draco. Just the two of us."

"I..." she floundered, momentarily at a loss for words. "Lucius, are you asking me out on a date?"

He chuckled softly at her surprised expression. "Why, yes, Mrs. Malfoy, I suppose I am."

For some inexplicable reason, Narcissa found herself blushing. "That would be lovely. Should I floo Severus?"

"Perhaps we should look into a different venue of care in the future, but tonight, perhaps we can ask him again. My parents and sisters are all attending the opera, and will be there until quite late."

"I'll go now," Narcissa said, turning to head off towards her fireplace, but paused. "Won't it be difficult to get a reservation at this late hour?"

Lucius smirked slightly, amused condescension leaking into his tone. "Darling, that won't be an issue. Was there anywhere in particular that you wanted to dine?"

"Surprise me," she called nonchalantly over her shoulder as she moved in the direction of her study. However, once she'd rounded the corner, she broke into a very unladylike dash, and tumbled into her study, flung a handful of floo powder into the fireplace and shouted not for Severus, but her sister.

"Bella!" she hollered, looking around her sister's parlor. "Bella, Bell-luh!"

"Merlin Cissy, what do you want?" Bellatrix strode into view, scowling and pulling a house robe around her shoulders.

"Bella, I-" she stopped. "Why aren't you dressed?"

"I _was_ dressed," Bellatrix replied evasively. "Anyway, what is it?"

"Lucius and I are going on a date! Our first date!"

"The honeymoon didn't count?"

"The honeymoon... didn't exactly work out. But we're going out tonight!"

"You've got the most backwards relationship, Cissy. First you married, then you fucked, then you dated. It's supposed to go the other way around, you know."

"You slept with Rodolphus before he asked you on a date, so clearly the order's not that important!"

"I suppose you're right." Bellatrix was clearly getting bored with the conversation.

"Alright, I'll just leave you to your husband, then," Narcissa huffed.

"Roddy's not here right now," Bellatrix replied vaguely, obviously not having fully listened to Narcissa's comment. "Did you want to leave a message?"

Narcissa frowned. "If Rodolphus isn't there... why aren't you dressed? In the middle of the afternoon?"

"Hush, Cissy, and go get ready for your date!" Bella snapped, turning on her heel and striding from the room.

Shaking her head, Narcissa withdrew to call on Severus.

"I know I promised never to ask another favor, but..."

* * *

"The Halcyon? Oh, I've never been here. It takes month for reservations; exactly how long have you been planning this?" Narcissa accused playfully.

"Since about three thirty this afternoon. Darling, you seem to forget that you're a Malfoy."

"And so? I was a Black before that and still couldn't get reservations to the nicest restaurant in all of the United Kingdom five hours ahead of time."

"Yes, because you weren't a Malfoy then."

They'd taken one of the finest carriages that evening; it wouldn't do to simply appear in the middle of Ambrosi Alley with a crude 'pop' at eight thirty on a Friday night. Lucius waved the coachman off after helping Narcissa down the glittering stairs that unfurled for her convenience and promptly folded themselves up once her heels met the cobblestone. Narcissa readjusted her ermine capelet before taking Lucius's arm and flashing him a quick grin. "Thank you for the diamonds- they're not too ostentatious, are they?" She turned her head coquettishly, so the large earbobs caught the light and dazzled.

"Darling," Lucius drawled lazily, "Ostentation is done in poor taste. My taste, fortunately, is flawless. There is nothing wrong with reminding the _arrivistes _that they still have something to aspire to- something they will never achieve." As he spoke, his eyes slid along the line of her neck to her throat and the diamonds settled there. Her gown was an elegant black sheath, flattering in its simplicity. "Money," Lucius continued softly, "Cannot purchase bloodlines..." For a moment, he seemed lost in thought, gazing ponderously at the jewellery she wore. "But," he continued with sudden briskness, "It does help to find timely reservations. This way, my dear."

Two immaculately dressed doormen opened the crystal-paned French doors. "Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy, a pleasure," the maître d' greeted them with a small bow and motioned that they should follow. "Your table, as requested, Mr. Malfoy. I will be personally overseeing your service this evening."

Lucius did not thank the man as they were seated, although undoubtedly another slightly-less affluent coulple was dining elsewhere this evening. Servers began to flutter about, filling glasses and spreading napkins.

"A bottle of the '62 Haut Brion, and have your sommelier send out appetizers to complement it," Lucius drawled, hardly glancing at the wine list. "That will be all for the moment, Alexandre."

"Of course." Dismissed, they quickly stepped aside to grant privacy.

"Come here often?" Narcissa teased.

"Enough. The food is unsurpassable. Unfortunately, the chef has an unbreakable lifetime contract; I've tried to hire him for the Manor in the past. Although I understand why such a contract would be necessary. Ah, look- here he is now."

"Monsieur Malfoy!" A beaming man, rotund and tall, was approaching their table. "Bonsoir- and is this your lovely wife I meet at last?"

"Indeed. Narcissa, this is Bayard Dureau. You won't find a finer chef in all of Great Britain."

"Great Britain? I daresay you insult me, Monsieur! In all of Europe, you mean," he blustered.

Lucius chuckled. "I'm not so sure, Bayard; I've been to France and Italy, you know, and some of the finest food-"

"Bah! Nonsense! I'll show you, Monsieur Malfoy! Do not dare insult me by ordering from the menu this evening- I will show _you_ the 'finest food!'"

Narcissa laughed and Lucius was shaking his head in amusement as the large man strode off. Almost immediately, Alexandre was by their table once more.

"Mr. Malfoy, I hope that Chef Dureau was not disturbing-"

"Not at all. You needn't be concerned, Alexandre," he replied dismissively. As soon as he'd left, Lucius leaned forward conspiratorially. "Little trick I learned- Bayard keeps his best recipes away from the owners of this place, but needs relatively little coaxing to serve them... If you know how to ask, that is." He sat back with a wink, and Narcissa giggled before she realized that this was not the proper place to do so.

"Well," she said, quelling her laughter, "I look forward to whatever he might concoct." Smiling, she took a sip of wine, but when she set it down, she allowed her hand to remain next to the glass, midway across the table. She was more than a little thrilled that Lucius reached out to take her hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world- perhaps a bit more thrilled than entirely normal when a husband and wife held hands. But then, Narcissa reasoned, they weren't an average couple by any means. When she looked up to meet Lucius's eye, however, she noticed he was frowning slightly.

"Is there a problem?"

"You don't have an engagement ring." His thumb was stroking over her wedding band thoughtfully.

"Well, no. We didn't exactly have a... well, it wasn't the typical engagement, was it?"

"No," he replied slowly. "I suppose it was not." He continued to brush his thumb across her knuckles, but looked up at her with a small smile. "So, tell me, are you looking forward to spending time with Lysandra this Sunday? She's seems determined that you two be friends."

"She does, doesn't she? Well, I suppose that's nice of her. I... Well, I've spent the most time around Bella growing up, she's the only other girl I've ever been close to. I would never expect anyone else to be like her- wouldn't want them to, honestly-"

Lucius made a sound of agreement. "Your sister is insane," he told her flatly.

"She's not! She's... eccentric. Passionate."

Lucius chuckled but did not press his point, so Narcissa continued.

"Anyway, she's not like Bella, but she's not like I imagined a close female friend is supposed to be. But what would I know? Ari did seem nice, though."

"Britt Parkinson's wife?"

"Yes... The other women didn't like her at all, and while she's a bit brash, I thought she seemed far more genuine than the others... But then, I've only just met the all of them, haven't I?"

"I think it would do you well to have friends other than Bellatrix."

Narcissa laughed. "You really don't like her, do you?"

"No." He did not hesitate in his reply. "I tolerate her for your sake, of course, and I wouldn't wish to become estranged from Rodolphus for her sake- although I dare say he himself hates her often enough."

"She's difficult," Narcissa conceded. "But she's family."

Lucius shook his head wryly. "Family is a sad circumstance, is it not?"

"Not _our_ family," Narcissa asserted. "We'll never embarrass Draco, and he won't resent us."

"Oh, we will, and he shall, but hopefully no more than the average teenager. I can only hope that it won't start until then, and will not last into his adult years."

"That's a bit pessimistic."

"Merely realistic, darling, and we cannot hope for anything better than that."

"Tell me about your work at the ministry," Narcissa suggested, changing the topic before it could turn melancholy.

"It's dreadfully boring but rather useful; the Minister is, of course, in a panic over the current political climate- as well she should be," he added with a glimmer in his eye, "and she feels the need to call on every resource in the country to help straighten things out. She won't last another term, though. If Dumbledore continues to refuse the position, is will go to the bumbling fool, Fudge, but I suppose that would be ideal in any matter. Fudge will beg for help from all those around him, and my influence will remain. All they really want is my gold, but I'm afraid I simply can't just hand over galleons to fund a government whose policies I don't agree with..." he sighed, but was smirking as he continued. "They give me an office and a secretary so I can write out my own version of bills, with generous offers to fund the entire legislative movement- provided, of course, that certain clauses receive special consideration."

Narcissa considered his words for a moment, before asking, "This secretary... Is she pretty?"

Lucius stared back, nonplussed, before realization dawn and he gave an amused, delighted chuckle. "She's ninety four. Her name is Bertha Hopkirk, and she's been working different secretarial posts at the ministry since the late eighteen hundreds. I think you'd find her just lovely."

"Is she by any chance related to Mafalda Hopkirk? Mafalda was a Ravenclaw, the year below me."

"Her grandmother, I believe. Or great grandmother, I'm not sure. She's interning in the Ministry."

"Are you not enjoying the wine?" Narcissa asked, noticing that he'd only taken a single sip since they were served, whereas she was nearly finished her first glass.

"It's perfect; why?"

"Well, you've hardly touched it."

"Narcissa," he shook his head ruefully. "You don't want me to drink any more than this."

"Rodolphus once said you were a funny drunk," she teased, swirling the dregs of her own glass and finishing it off.

"Darling, I tend to be somewhat unpredictable and... er, overtly emotional when I am inebriated."

"I want to see," Narcissa giggled, leaning forward and playfully sliding the toe for her shoe against the side of his leg. He blinked, startled, and politely moved his leg to allow her more room beneath the table. Narcissa rolled her eyes and tried again; this time slipping her shoe off entirely and running the arch of her foot from his ankle to knee. His eyebrows skidded up in surprise and Narcissa laughed outright.

"So what were you saying?" she inquired innocently, and tiny smirk on her lips.

"Something infinitely unimportant, I'm sure-" he took a quick gulp of wine, clearly without noticing.

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, your appetizers. We have here a-"

"Yes, yes, Alexandre, very good, we can see the food," Lucius interrupted dismissively. The other man bowed and quickly backed away, waving off the other servers.

"Do you know what I was just thinking about?"

"Hm?"

"Our bedroom. Specifically our bed."

"Were you?" He cleared his throat, the only indication that he has noticed that her toes had slid beneath the hem of his trousers to tickle the skin of his ankle.

"Yes... I think we could use a new decor in there. You know, it's rather dreary. I want silk sheets. Something soft, smooth..." she let her fingers drift over her arm as she spoke, fluttering her lashes. Lucius shifted, looking uncomfortable.

"Of course, darling, anything you.. er..." he cleared his throat again, apparently unsure of how to react to her toe brushing his knee.

"Are you alright?" Narcissa asked innocently. "You look a bit warm. Maybe have a sip of wine?"

Lucius did not point out that this would be futile, and that alcohol actually increased body temperature; instead, he drained his glass and set it down quickly.

"Anyway," she continued, as her foot began to rub against his thigh. "I think we could do with a new rug, too."

"You don't like the hardwood floors?"

"There just so cold, and hard..." her gaze sparkled mischievously. "Not that _hard_ is a problem, but if I ever had the urge to... oh, I don't know, lie down on the floor... or for some reason, had to be on my knees in there... well, don't you think a rug would make that a bit nicer?"

The waiter returned to fill Lucius's glass, and he took a deep gulp before asking, "And what would you be doing on you knees?"

"Oh, you know..." she drifted off, lightly stroking his fingers. "I could be doing anything. Picking something up that I dropped... What would _you_ want me to be doing on my knees?"

"Er..." his gaze shifted and he took another nervous swallow of alcohol. Narcissa noted the second glass was going much more quickly than the first. "I..." he gave a small cough, tugging at his collar. "Is it warm in here?"

"Feels fine to me," she replied sweetly, resting her foot lightly on the bulge in his trousers. He nodded and finished the glass in his hand, which was quickly refilled for a third time.

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, Chef Dureau has prepared for you, specially, a lovely-"

"Please just put the food down and go," Lucius snapped. Alexandre paled and backed off quickly, leaving them in privacy.

"You'd better leave a big tip," Narcissa said, pivoting her ankle and pressing down. Lucius made an odd, jerky movement and began to choke on his wine.

"Don't worry," he coughed, "I always do."

"Well, we should eat," Narcissa suggested, letting her foot return to the floor and slip back in to its shoe. Lucius glanced up confused, and she shot him a suductive smirk. "And continue the conversation after the meal. This looks like ambrosia." She cut off a tiny piece of scallop and took a bite, moaning softly. "Oh, it _is_."

Lucius's table manners were impeccable, but he did not waste a moment savoring his food. His bites were noticeably larger than normal, although not at all obscene, and he quickly washed everything down with wine. Narcissa, on the other hand, took the tiniest nibbles she could manage, and when Lucius cleared his plate when she was still on her third scallop, she smiled patiently and carefully took a sip of wine, running her tongue over her lip as she placed it back on the linen tablecloth.

"Darling... You look uncomfortable. Are you ill?" Narcissa shifted her chair around the small table, maneuvering to sit beside him. "Are you feverish?" A modicum of concern, she laid her hand against his forehead. At the same moment, he slid his hand between her legs, causing her to gasp.

"Narcissa, darling," he echoed her term of endearment, "I think it's time we leave."

She giggled, stifling the overwhelming urge to kiss him. Much to her surprise, he chuckled as well, but quickly fought to straighten his features.

"Lucius..." she whispered, grinning widely, "why do we have to go? I haven't finished my supper." To emphasize her point, she reached over and speared a bit of scallop.

"We can have dessert at home," he promised. Narcissa leaned on his heavily, lips brushing against his ear as she asked,

"And what are we having for dessert?"

"Something I can lick off of you. Alexandre," he called, smirking at her shocked expression, "we're ready to go."

"Mr. Malfoy," he looked highly distressed. "Was something not to your liking? Is there anything I could-"

"The evening was fine. Add the meal to my tab and, your tip..." he reached into his pocket and Narcissa heard the soft clink of gold, but he withdrew a cheque book and quill, scrawling an amount and his signature. "Have an excellent evening."

Narcissa saw the amount and opened her mouth to ask if he meant to add that many zeroes, but Lucius took her arm and steered her out of the restaurant, carefully keeping her in front of him. Alexandre joyfully called "_Au revior!_ We hope to see you in the near future!" as Lucius guided her into their waiting carriage.

"That was rather devious of you," he purred, pushing her back and covering her body with his own as soon as the door closed behind them.

"What are you going to do? Punish me?" Narcissa challenged, eyes sparkling.

"No, but I'm going to have to insist that you relieve me of my physical suffering," he drawled, ducking his head to kiss her. The carriage jolted and Lucius gave a grunt of discomfort as his forehead bumped against the wrought gold armrest. "Ouch..."

Narcissa dissolved into giggles once more and he began to laugh as well, between eager kisses. The wine was making Narcissa giddy, and for a moment she felt like she was sixteen again, secretly snogging in a broom closet as she skipped class. She tried to flip him over, but when he obliging rolled on to his back, they both tumbled onto the floor in a flurry of limb and helpless laughter. Lucius pulled himself into an sitting position against the wall of the carriage, and Narcissa pulled up her long skirt so she could easily straddle him.

"You smell good," she whispered against his throat as she struggled with the buttons of his shirt. He chuckled.

"That's seductive dirty talk if I've ever heard it," he teased, hands running over her bare thighs. She tried to look offended, but laughter bubbled its was to the surface.

"Alright then, Mr. Suave, you say something naughty," she challenged, freeing her careful coif so her hair cascaded freely around her shoulders and back.

He considered the challenge for a moment, before placing his lips at the hollow beneath her ear and breathing silkily, "Mrs. Malfoy, when we arrive at the Manor, I desire nothing more than to sweep you off your feet and thoroughly ravish you."

Narcissa couldn't help another giggle. "That's a bit formal, isn't it? How about this." She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. "Oh, Lucius," she moaned, hands running her fingers through his hair as he kissed her throat. "I want you inside of me _now._"

Lucius pulled away, grinning. "That sounds fantastic."

Narcissa finished pushing his dress robes off and went to work on his belt, just tipsy enough that it was a struggle. Lucius tried to help, but looked down just as she was looking up, whacking his nose painfully on her forehead. They dissolved into laughter once again, and Lucius pressed his lips to hers as the carriage shuddered to a halt.

"That was quick!" Narcissa chirped, grabbing Lucius's hands as she hopped to her feet. "C'mon, hurry!"

They stumbled to the front door, stopping every few feet to steal a kiss, and they finally spilled into the foyer. Severus appeared, looking surprised.

"I didn't think you'd be back until much late-"

"Severus, you have to go so Lucius and I can have sex!" Narcissa giggled. Immediately, her hand flew to her mouth in mortification. "Oh! I mean..."

"Why don't you join us for dinner tomorrow next Friday?" Lucius offered instead.

"I don't think I'll be up to it," he replied drily.

"Oh," Narcissa made a sympathetic face. "Are you feeling ill?"

"No. Good evening." He swept from the Manor and Disapparated with a crack.

"Do you think we've upset him?"

"He'll get over it," Lucius assured her, finally managing to unfasten the back of her gown and grinning in triumph. "Time for bed, wife."


	31. Chapter 31

"Lucius... are you awake?"

"Mmm... I am now. What time is it?"

"Four thirty."

"Excellent." He buried his head under the pillow. Narcissa smiled and stroked his exposed back.

"Draco's going to be up soon. I wanted to remind you that I'm going out today- you'll be okay watching him, right?"

"Of course, darling. I'll be especially okay if I get another hour of sleep."

"Lucius..."

His head poked up at last. "What is it, sweetheart?" he asked gently, squinting through the dark.

"I'm not sure." She had a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, the kind of distracting excitement that had kept her up on Christmas Eve as a child. "It's just... this feeling."

Lucius frowned, sitting up beside her. "A bad feeling? A premonition?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that. This is a good feeling." Once he was upright, she scooted over to rest her head on his shoulder. "Last night was fun. We should do it again."

"We might need to find someone else to watch Draco, though," he commented, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Lucius... what's your middle name?"

He blinked, surprised. "It's Abraxas. After my father. Why?"

"I couldn't remember. And that's something you should just know off the top of your head about your husband, isn't it?"

"I suppose so, Narcissa Cassiopeia Malfoy." He pressed his lips to her temple.

"Lucius... there's something that doesn't make a lot of sense to me," she began hesitantly.

"Hm?" he yawned.

"When we got married... I was just dreadful to you, for so long. How did you fall in love with me? It's just... we never really knew each other, but it's as though you already loved me. Not just loved having a wife, but me. Even when there was nothing lovable about me."

He was silent for several minutes; so long, in fact, that Narcissa wondered if he'd fallen back asleep.

"There wasn't..." he began slowly. "There wasn't much in my childhood to give me any sort of happiness. Especially not before Beatrice was born."

She waited, rather confused, but curious.

"Would it make sense, then, if there was a memory that gave me joy... that I might hold on to it? That, even if it seemed insignificant to all those involved, it might stay with me for years afterwards?"

"Of course."

"Then I want to show you something."

He rose from bed, and plodded across the room to locate his pensieve.

"What is it?" she asked, eager, clambering out of bed after him.

"The first time we met."

_The train to Hogwarts,_ he mind supplied instantly, but Lucius continued, "We were four and five years old."

Narcissa blinked, shocked. Although... he had recognized her instantly in the memory she had spied upon, hadn't he?

Lucius sifted through the memories in the basin, flicking through scene after scene until he found the one he was searching for.

"Alright, you go first."

Narcissa glanced at him curiously, but lowered her face to the misty surface, and began to fall.

Her feet his the grounds of the Malfoy Manor on a sunny day, and present-day Lucius materialized shortly after. There appeared to be some sort of garden party in progress, and Narcissa quickly located her mother, chatting with Aethel Malfoy. Lucius sat between the two women, ignored and fidgeting. His eyes were wide and hopeful, and Narcissa followed his gaze to see what he was watching. With a pang, she saw a group of children, close to his age, playing games a short distance away. Clearly, no one had invited him, and he already possessed enough self-awareness to feel shame in having to ask them if he could join. Narcissa watched the children, and after a moment, she recognized herself in the group. Bella and Andromeda were there, too, along with children Narcissa was certain she could identify if they were a bit older.

At four, Narcissa had been unusually small, and was therefore having a bit of trouble keeping up with the game of Keep the Wand from The Muggle. The little ones shrieked and laughed, brandishing the stick about, but no one noticed when Narcissa lunged forward and stumbled over a rock, vanishing over a small knoll. No one, except for Lucius.

Alarmed, he checked to see if Mrs. Black had seen. He tapped his mother's leg urgently, but she waved him aside. Rebuffed, Lucius hopped to his feet and headed over to where he'd seen her fall.

She was a pitiful sight indeed; grass was tangled in her pale hair, and her dress was badly dirtied, but her arm was the main concern. She had cut it on a jagged rock on the way down, and it was bleeding. She was sniffling, too shocked to feel pain yet, and Lucius sprinted forward to drop to his knees beside her.

"You're hurt," he whispered, gingerly pointing to her arm. She nodded, lower lip protruding, eyes beginning to pool with tears. She thrust it injured limb out to him, and begged softly,

"Fix it?"

Lucius swallowed nervously. More than anything, he want to; he wanted to make her not hurt. Fingers trembling, he covered to wound with his palm. He clenched his eyes shut and grit his teeth, trying to think up a healing spell, wishing that he could someway, somehow, make her better... he'd gladly take the pain for himself, if only-

He drew away with a gasp when he felt a wet burning across his hand. Narcissa examined her arm, eyes wide.

"You did it!" she exclaimed, delighted. Grateful, she flung her arms around his neck. "I've only ever seen grown-ups do magic! But it's gone!"

It wasn't quite gone. Lucius glanced at his palm, where the cut had transferred, but he quickly made a fist and hugged her back. He was thrilled, the expression on his face one of pure delight, eyes full of the same joy most children expressed upon receiving a far better gift than they'd ever before been given.

Narcissa knew that she had not been a very affectionate child, but her smaller self seemed to sense that Lucius needed to be held, and did not squirm away.

"Come on," she whispered at last, grabbing his good hand. "Come play."

"You didn't let go of me all day," adult Lucius murmured in her ear, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Except to play knights and dragons, where you insisted that I be the one to rescue you."

Narcissa turned, grasping his right hand and opening it. There was a scar; faded and stretched, but still visible.

"My mother didn't let me go to garden parties," she murmured, stroking his palm. "This one must have been the only until after I started Hogwarts; I suppose she couldn't find someone to watch us, but didn't want to turn down an invitation from you mother."

"I...I didn't really have friends as a child. And I hated these parties. But I went to every single one until I started school, even when I was the oldest child there, even when I couldn't clearly remember your face. I never stopped hoping."

They were standing in their bedroom once more.

"Lucius..." she laid her forehead against his chest, for some reason feeling on the verge of tears. "Do you believe in fate?"

"Fate is rather closely linked with Divination, which I never had much faith in."

"But Lucius..." a new idea was occurring to her, one that she wasn't quite sure how to cope with. If she was right... what did that mean about the seven years she spent with Mort? About everything she was so certain she thought she knew? "What if we were _fated_ to be together? What if... what if I'm the only person who can fix you, and you're the only one who can make me truly happy? I fought against it, fought _so hard_, but what if I never had a choice? It would have been so easy- what if I had seen you again at another party, if we'd become friends... what if I hadn't fought so hard against our engagement... If I'd just put down my book that day on the Hogwarts Express..."

Lucius frowned. Questions sprang to his lips, but he bit them back. _Fix me? _And did she, too, remember that train ride?

"All this time, Lucius," she whispered. "What if we're not together because our parents made us be... but because we're supposed to be?" Just days ago, she'd been convinced of the very opposite, but something seemed different now.

"It... it's quite a thought, Narcissa," he replied, stroking her hair. "And not one that I'm at all disinclined to believe. But darling, fate implies a lack of free will, no ability to choose."

"Fate is destiny, Lucius. It's a better future than what we could have made for ourselves without a higher force."

He didn't want to tell her 'no'; after all, hadn't he hoped she would come to a similar revelation, and realize that she did not need to be with Rodtimer Yaxley to be happy? But the idea of fate seemed rather farfetched to him.

"Let's go back to bed," he suggested softly. "And discuss it once the sun is up."

"But Draco-"

"I'll go check on Draco." He kissed her forehead patiently.

* * *

"Cissy, honey, there you are! I was starting to worry." Lysandra beamed at Narcissa as she pulled open the door. Narcissa smiled back, albeit more shyly. "Rabby, I'm headed out!" she called, grabbing her wand from a nearby table. Rabastan appeared from the corridor that Narcissa guessed lead to the kitchen, wearing nothing but pinstriped boxer shorts and scarfing down a bowl of cereal.

"Have fun!" he replied around his spoon. His hair, lighter than his brother's, stuck up in all directions, and he was grinning. "Hey, Cissy. How are you?"

"I'm great," she replied, thrilled to realize that it was true. "You look fantastic, by the way."

"Thanks, Cis. You too." He'd made it across the room and gave Narcissa a quick peck on the cheek, and wrapped his arms around Lysandra. "I'll miss you, gorgeous."

Lysandra rolled her eyes and ruffled his hair. "You'll manage. We won't be back for a while, so find something to do and don't sit around in your underwear all day. Okay?"

"But it's my day off!"

"Day off from work, not day off from clothes-wearing. Bye, Rabby," she blew him a kiss and grabbed Narcissa's wrist, leading her out the door. "Honestly," Lysandra continued as they walked down the stairs, "I sometimes think he just likes to see himself naked."

"He's probably just proud of what he looks like- did you ever see him when he was younger?"

"Merlin, no, and he doesn't have a single photo lying around either!"

"He used to be very insecure;sweet as can be, as I'm sure you know, but he felt just awful in comparison to Rodolphus."

"Merlin, his brother has the most incredible biceps in the world, have you noticed? Dreadful personality though."

"Er..." Narcissa shrugged, taken aback. "Anyway, 'Bastan used to be... well, a bit chubby. He's lost all the weight, though, and I'm glad for him. He seems much happier."

"Rabby was fat, really? No wonder he hate Rodolphus so much then. Well, at least he's cute now though..." she flashed a quick smile, "and mine. I was thinking we should go to Paris today, shopping! Unless you'd rather stay in the UK?"

"Anywhere's fine," she assured her.

"Great. Let's get new gowns for the Rosier's ball. Little Caroline's a married woman- can you believe it? I know I just can't. Rabastan doesn't seem to mind much, either way. I think he's sort of always been expecting her to drop dead at any moment, and hasn't gotten attached the way Rodolphus has. Don't know why Evan is so fascinated by her though- she's dreadfully quite and is always rushing off to take potions or lie down... Ah, here we are, the international floo's through there."

* * *

Narcissa arrived back at the Manor, arms full of bags and grinning. "Lucius," she sang. "I'm home!"

There was no reply.

"Lucius!" she called, a bit louder, as a house elf appeared to take her bags. "Lucius, where _are_- oh!" She had quite forgotten that the rest of Lucius's family was still here, and she felt an unpleasant squirming in the pit of her stomach at the sight of Aethel, regarding her coolly. Narcissa recalled how the older woman despised yelling.

"Hello, Narcissa."

"Hello, Mrs. Malfoy," she replied dutifully, but dully. "Is Lucius home?"

"I'm afraid my son had a business emergency and was forced to depart quite suddenly."

"Who's watching Draco, then?" she demanded loudly. Aethel's lip curled in distaste.

"Draco is with his grandfather. My husband is in his study."

Narcissa brushed past without a word of thanks. She had grown tired of showing fealty towards this woman who hated her so unjustly; this woman who had so little warmth for her own son. She approached Abraxas's study, but paused outside the door when she heard the sound of his voice.

"... And the dragon swooped down to attack the villagers, but then the brave wizard called upon the magic of Ancients to cast a powerful charm over the town, warding the dragon off. But he did not simply stop at defending the people; oh, no. He pursued the dragon and confronted the beast in the mountains, using his sword, forged by goblins and imbibed with the magic of The Greats, he slew the terrifying creature. When the wizard returned to the village, they rejoiced, and he was from then on named for the dragon: Draco Claudius Malfoy. Your thirteen times great grandfather. You're named for him, you know."

Narcissa poked her head in with a small smile to see Abraxas stretched across the rug, chin resting on his folded hands. Draco was facing him, on his belly and cooing happily. He noticed his mother before Abraxas did, and squealed with delight. "A-ma ma!"

Narcissa entered the room to scoop up her son and Abraxas rolled on to one elbow, smiling lazily up at her.

"My dear Narcissa," he addressed her warmly. "Did you have a nice trip into town?"

"Oh yes, it was lovely," she assured him, stroking her son's pale hair. "We went to Paris."

"Ah, Paris. _Ville de mon coeur. _I do so wish to spend more time there, though business makes it quite impossible." He rose to his feet, but only to move to an elegant armchair. He gestured that Narcissa should have a seat as well. "You have a delightful son."

"Thank you; you do too," she replied with absent-minded courtesy, before giving a small giggle as she realized the she was referring to her own husband. Abraxas smiled warmly.

"In all honestly, Narcissa, I must confess that I am glad to hear you say so. It seems that, by moving from the Manor, you have had the opportunity to set aside differences and work together in raising your beautiful boy."

"We're happy," she whispered, still marveling in the thrill that the words gave her.

"I am glad to hear it. He always was a troubled boy," Abraxas commented mildly, fingers lightly over the leather armrest of his chair.

"He's still troubled," Narcissa replied under her breath, not expecting him to hear.

"I had hoped he would outgrow it," he murmured ruefully. "I can't fathom why he hasn't. He's a clever boy; you would think he'd have a bit stronger constitution."

Narcissa's jaw dropped in disbelief. "He _is_ strong," she insisted, trying to keep the anger from her tone. "He..." She paused, not wanting to hurl accusations at her father-in-law. But Abraxas raised one eyebrow, curious.

"Please, Narcissa, continue."

"He was so lonely as a child," she whispered, unwilling to meet his eye. "He was... or he felt, at least... neglected. He had no friends, and you and Mrs. Malfoy... He never felt that you loved him."

"Narcissa, it is not customary to raise sons to be coddled in the same way daughters are."

"But that doesn't mean you shouldn't love them! Hold them occasionally!"

"I regret that my wife did not treat Lucius with affection when he was a boy," he confessed softly. Narcissa waited, but he offered no more.

"And you?" she prompted.

"Narcissa, of course I loved my son. I tried to let him know that by always striving to help him achieve the very most he could, by doing what was best for him."

"He wanted you to hug him. Or at least, wanted someone to."

Abraxas rose slowly to his feet, pacing over to the large glass balcony doors and staring over the grounds.

"Have you noticed that Lucius has an aversion to alcohol?"

Narcissa frowned, but replied, "I have. Why?"

"I tried to instill that in him through example; I worried that telling him outright would inspire youthful rebellion and have the opposite intended effect. I chose to let him learn for himself.

"It's a tricky thing, alcohol; a base addiction, one that Muggles and wizards alike are susceptible to. A weakness towards it often runs in families." Thoughtfully, he let his hand trail over the drapes, gaze still fixed on the distant woods. "My father was raised in the way most Malfoy heirs are. Having everything handed him, he saw no reason why he should not indulge himself in the occasional drink- and later, more than occasionally.

"My father was born at the end of the nineteenth century; 1898, to be exact. He married my mother at a very young age; she was fifteen, he was eighteen. Things were rather different then, of course. Your own grandfather Pollux was a mere thirteen years when your Aunt Walburga was born. The intention was to have children as early as possible- an heir and a spare, ideally. My mother had a daughter early on; beautiful little girl who died three years before I was born, when she was only seven years old. My father was devastated; it wasn't until then that his heavy drinking truly began. Even though my sister and I were born in the next five years, he had already developed the habit. And he was bitter.

"My father was raised to treat women as delicate creatures- and not to play the male chauvinist here, my dear Narcissa, but you all are rather delicate. I do appreciate that, even when inebriated, he could recognize that. He- ah... well. As I said, he drank quite a lot. And quite often. He did not react well to the alcohol; Malfoy men rarely do. Remember to assure that your own little one knows that. He would become... violent."

He fell silent, and Narcissa readjusted Draco, who was squirming restlessly.

"My father was violent," he repeated, dully. "But he always regretted his outbursts. And he never struck my mother or sister. As a child, when he would hit me, I would become distraught and confused. But the next day, after he'd sobered up, her would pick me up and hold me, take me to a Qudditch game or out for ice cream. He would carry me around, in his arms when I was a toddler, on his shoulders when I got too big for that, but he was always cheerful and gentle, as though he could undo his transgressions. When I was young, sitting in his lap as we read the Daily Prophet, me with a newly blacked eye and him with a sever hangover, made up for his violent outbursts. I adored him anyway.

"When I left for school, I was old enough to recognize how perverse our living situation was, but to me they seemed to have ended. I was only home during holidays, and he rarely drank then; we had family visiting, you see. I was able to put my unusual past behind me. I had school, I had friends; I had Charlotte. She was the only one I confessed my past to, and she was horrified. Far more than I myself was. But her words stayed with me. The summer after my fifth year, he struck me. I retaliated."

Again, he stopped, and Narcissa waited. Even Draco had fallen silent.

"I was only a boy, at the time. He was a full grown man. Of course my arrogant rage was no match for him. Of course he hurt me. He beat me within an inch of my life. He cracked my ribs, bloodied my face, bruised my entire body." His voice was dry and cool, unaffected as he recounted the night. Narcissa cringed.

"My sister came into the room. I think that's what stopped him from killing me. You see, that night was the eighteenth anniversary of my other sister's death- that was why he was so drunk, so pained. No Healers were called, though. Malfoys neatly avoid scandal, throughout history. All convenient deaths are ruled tragic accidents, and you will find that we fall down stairs frequently, despite our renowned grace.

"Even after that, I did not hate him. I did not hate him until the next morning, when he came into my room and held out his arms, meaning to hold me, make me forgive him. I could not rise from bed, sloppily bandaged as I was, but told him never to touch me again. And he never did. We did not mention the incident ever again, save one occasion, and that was a mere allusion."

"Did he apologize?" Narcissa asked weakly. Abraxas shook his head.

"No, no, my dear, nothing like that. It was when I informed him of my intention to marry Charlotte. He asked me the nature of our relationship. I told him I loved her. He asked how much. I said she meant the world to me, that she knew me better than anyone else. He asked how much she knew, and unthinkingly, I replied, "Everything." He then proceeded to tell me that, if I married her, I would be disowned. He could not abide by the idea of someone knowing everything. So he picked out a lovely young girl from Sweden. A Sigbjörn girl; the most esteemed family in the country.

"They have unusual customs in Sweden, you know. Today it is considered unlucky for the groom to see his fiancee's dress before the wedding. In Sweden, men customarily do not see their bride at all until she reaches the alter and he lifts her veil. Another is that boys and girls are raised separately. The boys live in one side of the home, raised by fathers, unwed uncles, brothers and male caregivers, while girls are raised in the other, by mothers, maiden aunts, sisters, etcetera. The two wings are adjoined only by a single room: the master bedroom, which the head Moder and Far share. All the Purebloods of Sweden are raised this way. Children see their parent of the opposite gender rarely, if ever at all. It is intended to produce men and women untainted by inclinations of the other sex- and, of course, sex itself. Aethel was raised in such a way. She had been taught precisely how to treat a husband, a man of authority, but did not see one in the flesh until our marriage."

He chuckled softly, rubbing his chin wryly. "It led to some interesting experiences early in our married life, I assure you. But she had been raised to treat me respectfully, obediently, lovingly. She had not, however, been taught to raise a son. From the time he was born, she attempted to distance herself from him, but with the experiences I had with my own father, I was reluctant to even hold him as an infant. I could only too clearly remember how I had hated my own father's hand; I could not bring myself to touch Lucius. Aethel did not wish to. He was neglected badly. I regretted it all the time, Narcissa," he told her earnestly, turning to face her at last. "But there was nothing I could do."

"I chose you for him not because of your blood or name, but because you were highly recommended. I asked Horace Slughorn about any outstanding witches in Slytherin. He mentioned you specifically. He said you were kind, and I knew immediately that you would be the one he should marry. He did not mention the Yaxley boy, as he did not know my intentions at the time, but- forgive me, dear- I would have asked your parents for you anyway. It would be simple to find a girl to love my son's title and wealth; however, I suspected a gentle-hearted girl might love him. Hoped, at least."

"I thought you loved Aethel."

"I am fond of her, and of course I would tell you I loved her: you missing your Yaxley boy so much, and both you and my son so unhappy. I intended to give you a bit of inspiration."

"Was she hurt- Charlotte- that you chose not to marry her?"

"Charlotte did not allow me to choose. I told her what my father said, and she announced that she would never marry me. She would not let me abandon a family that has been in existence since wizards first learned to channel magic through crude sticks. She loved me too to allow me to give up my inheritance."

"If she hadn't said that, would you have run away with her? She was still a Slytherin, a Pureblood, not a dishonorable girl."

"Oh, Narcissa..." he sighed. "To this day, I have no idea."

"Lucius has never mentioned his grandfather... is he still alive?"

"No. He died when Lucius was seven years old. Died of Dragon Pox, rare in a man his age. Did you hear the story I was telling Draco when you came in? The tale of Draco Claudius? Ironically, my father contracted the disease shortly after visiting our ancestor's tomb, the famous dragon slayer, in the forest of Narth. It's a sight I've always wanted to see before my own passing. Someday," he shrugged carelessly. "Lucius wouldn't remember him, though. I wouldn't let him near my own child."

He approached Narcissa, regarding her seriously. "I must ask that you share what I've told you with no one. Not even my son."

"Not a soul," she promised.

* * *

(Author's Note: I'm going to say this is end of Part I, if we're dividing the story up. Now you know all the background, why everyone is the was they are. There's a reason for everything. Now, who's exicted for the angsty drama of Part II?)


	32. Chapter 32

Narcissa paced the length of her bedroom in agitation, staring out the window as though doing so would somehow bring him home more quickly. It was late; far too late for him to still be out on business. Draco was asleep, and the rest of the Malfoys were- mercifully- packing in preparation to leave the next morning. But her husband had yet to return.

She dressed for bed distractedly, and once she had climbed between the sheets, she lay wide awake. The blackness pressed against her as completely as it would if her eyelids were closed, and she groped for her wand for a small flicker of light. It never seemed so dark when Lucius was here.

"_Lumos,"_ she whispered, dimming the level until it was only a soft glow. However, this threw the objects of the room in eerie relief, and she quickly extinguished it. Narcissa tugged the soft, heavy blankets up to her chin, feeling foolishly like a little girl, afraid of a bump in the night.

A crash caused her to bolt upright with a small scream, but Lucius quickly hushed her.

"Calm down, it's just me. I just- oh, fuck. Narcissa-" There was a dull thud and hollow bang, followed by a low groan. Narcissa relit her wand and stumbled to where Lucius had collapsed. His breathing was fast and shallow, and he struggled to keep his eyes open as he rubbed his head.

"What happened? What's wrong? Are you bleeding? Was it Aurors?"

"No. I..."

She tried to haul him to his feet, but he hissed in pain and placed a stilling hand on her shoulder. "Just let me lie here for a moment."

"Should I get the dittany?"

"No," he sighed, closing his eyes. She knelt down beside him, stroking his hair off his forehead. His head turned to rest against her leg, and he reached up to drape his arm over her lap.

"Tell me what happened?" she prompted gently, hopefully. He gave what might have been a shrug.

"I asked too many questions."

The hand that had been tenderly raking through his hair froze. "You mean... _he _did this to you?" she demanded in horror. Lucius frowned, and reached up to touch her hand, an indication that she should resume petting him. She did, but wished he would open his eyes to look at her.

"It was my own fault, 'Cissa," he mumbled, rubbing his cheek unconsciously against her. "He gave me a task- I should have obeyed in silence. I was just ..." he drifted off, sighing again.

"Alright, I think I can get up now," he sighed, hauling himself onto one elbow and wincing. Narcissa immediately dropped forward to help, though he was unwilling to rest much weight upon her. They staggered over to the bed, and she began to quickly undress him, wanting to see the extent of his injuries. When she managed to remove his outer robes, a small object fell to the floor with a thud. Unusually drawn towards it, Narcissa bent to pick it up.

"Don't touch it!" Lucius gasped, lifting his head. Narcissa quickly withdrew her hand.

"What is it?"

Lucius gave a brief, mirthless laugh. About an hour ago, he'd asked the same question, with the same innocent curiosity; and now, he could scarcely stand.

"I'm not sure. And I apparently wasn't meant to ask. Just to hide it, and keep it safe. I suppose it must hold a great deal of Dark Magic, so you'd probably be better off not to touch it."

"But... It just looks like a harmless old book!"

"I can guarantee that it is not. Narcissa, love..." he broke of on a pained note, and she turned back guiltily.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Here..." She continued undressing him, but she could find nothing but several bruises that, while quite colorful, did not look extensive enough to be causing so much pain.

"Lucius..." She let her fingers drift over his chest, scowling. "The Cruciatus Curse?" she guessed. He nodded once. "Isn't there anything I can do to help?"

"I'll be fine after a bit of sleep, I promise."

Narcissa dipped her head to press a tiny kiss to the hollow of his throat, tracing a trail up to the tender spot beneath his ear with her lips. "I still don't like it," she breathed softly in his ear, sucking lightly on the lobe. He hummed in approval, though she could not tell if he was showing appreciation for her words or ministrations. She smoothed her palms down his chest, and her mouth followed close after. However, as she moved downward, she noticed something rather odd. He didn't seem to be responding.

"Lucius?" she glanced up at his face, baffled. He was fast asleep. Smiling with wry affection, Narcissa crawled back beside him, snuggling up to his warmth and closing her eyes.

* * *

When Narcissa awoke the next morning, the robes and the diary were gone. She stretched her arms above her head, staring rather mournfully at the empty spot beside her until she heard a bright, cooing sound from the bathroom. She kicked the sheets aside and padded over to the door to investigate.

Lucius was shaving, and Draco sat on the marble counter top watching him with a face covered in shaving cream and an enormous, toothless grin. The little blonde wore only his diaper, and had smears of fluffy white foam all over his body. As Narcissa watched, Draco held out his hands and Lucius, without pausing in his neat, precise movements, or even looking away from the mirror, dispersed another snowy gob onto the boy's chubby fingers. Draco shrieked in delight, and buried his face in the cream. Lucius finished shaving and carefully rinsed his face and razor before turning to his son.

"Now, look at the mess you've made," he drawled coolly, though his eyes shone with amusement. He scooped up the child, and Draco began to unintentionally transfer the foam from himself to his father through his eager flailing. Lucius laughed, which caused Draco to dissolve into uncontrollable giggles and tip forward so that Lucius wrapped his arms around him.

"What a mess, what a mess," Lucius murmured, working the messy cream into Draco's hair before carrying him over to the tub. "Now, Mummy with be up soon, and you don't want her to see you like this, do you?"

Draco babbled in reply as Lucius turned on the water and began to wash the shaving cream away.

"Mummy's already awake," Narcissa spoke at last, edging into the room with a smile. "But she doesn't mind the mess."

Lucius flashed her a quick grin and finished rinsing off their son. Narcissa held a towel up, and Lucius handed placed him in her arms so she could bundle him up and kiss his forehead.

"How is my darling little angel this morning?" she asked, stroking Draco's cheek with one finger. "How perfect you are, my baby." She turned back to Lucius, who'd moved to the sink to wash himself off.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Much," he replied briefly, but when he looked up at her, he smiled gently. "I have to go into town today, but I should be home for dinner."

She nodded, sliding forward and into his arms.

"Will you be able to keep yourself amused until then?"

"Oh, I suppose," she sighed playfully. "I think Draco and I shall spend the day over at the Lestrange's."

"Your sister's?"

"No, Rabastan and Lyssa's, actually. Rabby'll probably be out, though."

"Did I mention that I'm glad you have friends who are not Bellatrix?"

She laughed and stood on her toes to give him a quick peck. "One or twice. But you should go get ready now; you missed a spot of shaving cream."

* * *

Narcissa returned home that evening in a positively jovial mood. Abraxas, Aethel and the girls had left that morning, much to Narcissa's suppressed delight (though she was rather sad, once again, to see Abraxas go). Because of this, she had no compunctions towards entering the Manor singing.

"Lucius! Are you here? I'm home!" She did not receive a reply, and supposed that he must be working late. She began singing once more, and Draco smiled up at her. She nuzzled her nose to his, but when she glanced back up, she froze.

An unfamiliar woman stood in the doorway of her husband's study. She had not yet noticed Narcissa, as she was leaning into the study, laughing and running her hand through her hair. She was not dressed formally enough to be any sort of diplomat or business associate, and besides, she certainly wasn't a day over twenty five.

The woman straightened up, turned into the hall and froze, a look of evident guilt flitting across her features. She cleared her throat awkwardly, and fiddled with her clutch as she quickly strode past Narcissa and out the door.

Narcissa stood rooted to the stop, scarcely able to breathe. She didn't move until Draco began to squirm restlessly, and then strode quickly into Lucius's study.

"Who was that?" she demanded without prelude, tone harsh. Lucius looked up from his writing, startled.

"Who?"

"That woman! That woman who was just her, who was she?"

"Er... Miss Wainsworth? Something Wainsworth? Mary? Marissa? She's Edward Abbott's secretary." He shrugged, baffled by her apparent anger.

"Why was she here?"

"She was delivering some important documents," Lucius replied, confusion growing. "Narcissa, what's-"

"Why couldn't he owl them? Or give them to you in the office? Or send over an elf?"

Lucius rose, by now deeply concerned. "They're very important documents, and time sensitive, so he couldn't risk the delay of an owl. He didn't give them to me in London because he just finished writing the reports. And he doesn't have and elf; not everyone does, dear. What's wrong?"

"I just..." she glanced down at Draco, feeling slightly embarrassed. "She gave me this look when she was walking out."

"A look?" he echoed uncertainly.

"Forget it," she muttered, busying herself busy fussing over Draco.

"Surely you aren't... jealous?" he guessed tentatively.

"No," she shot back, too quickly. "I just didn't know what to think," she confessed at last.

"Don't think _that_," he told her swiftly. He gave a short, bemused chuckle that caused her to glare. He quickly suppressed his amusement. "I'm sorry, but darling, I can't even imagine why that would cross your mind."

"It's not so unreasonable. You-"

"_Yes,_ it is unreasonable. I don't give a damn if I'm rich or young or what sort of reputation men of the Malfoy family have. I am still me, and you are still you, and so _yes,_ the idea is incredibly unreasonable. Never think it again."

Reassured, Narcissa beamed up at him. "Well, yes, alright."

She moved forward to kiss him, but in her arms, Draco sneezed. She stopped mid-step.

"Oh! Did you hear that? I think he's ill!"

"It was just a sneeze, darling."

"No, he looks all drowsy and he's been restless today- I think he's getting a cold!"

"Most children do," he told her, but leaned over in concern nonetheless.

"But _our _child shouldn't! Can we give him Pepperup Potion?"

"No, I've read that the side effect steam can damage the eardrum of infants up until they're three years old."

"What _can _I do then?"

"See if he'll eat, and then put him to bed?" Lucius suggested. "There isn't much else to be done, I'm afraid."

* * *

That evening, Lucius crawled into bed beside Narcissa, and leaned over to kiss her. She returned the kiss, somewhat absent mindedly, but when he did not draw away, and his hand found her waist, she brushed him aside gently.

"Not tonight," she murmured.

He withdrew immediately. Narcissa sank back into the pillows, lost in thought, until Lucius broke the silence.

"Is it because of Abbott's secretary?"

Narcissa eyes opened in surprise. "What?"

"Are you still upset about Abbott's secretary being here this afternoon?"

"Of course not. Why do you ask?"

"Well," he exhaled slowly, rubbing his face before looking over at her. "You haven't not wanted to have sex since... well. I thought maybe I'd done something to upset you."

"Darling!" she propped herself up on one elbow so she could kiss him once more. "I'm worried about Draco, is all. And my head feels rather congested- I may be coming down with the same thing."

He nodded, looking reassured, and Narcissa settled against him to further iterate her honesty. He was right- they'd made love nearly every single night since they'd first really started, though she was somewhat saddened to see the return of his old insecurity in the face of her gentle rebuff.

"Good night, Lucius."

* * *

The next morning, Narcissa woke to a throbbing head ache and found that she was unable to breathe through her nose. She groaned as she sat up, but unlike her small son, was able to take a potion to quickly clear away the cold symptoms. She trudged to the bathroom, praying that Lucius had some, sneezing loudly as she went.

The potions cabinet was meticulously organized. Each bottle was of uniform size, and labeled in Lucius's neat script. He'd also arranged them alphabetically. While normally this would cause her to roll her eyes, she was grateful to quickly locate the 'P's, and found a full bottle of bright orange Pepperup Potion. She took a good sized gulp, not bothering to measure it out, and cringed as an enormous puff of steam shot out each ear. However, once the steam cleared, she felt marginally better. She re-corked the vial, but as she set it back in its allotted place, she noticed something rather odd. In the back corner of the cabinet, a glass beaker, smaller than the others, was turned on its side, as though Lucius had tried to cram it out of the way. She reached for it curiously, and when she read the label, attached by the apothecary, her jaw dropped.

"Feeling better?" Lucius entered the lavatory rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Good to see you found the potion-"

"Lucius, what is this?" she demanded, spinning around and holding out the bottle, which was about halfway full of a bright blue serum.

Upon seeing it, Lucius flushed and snatched it out of her hand. "It's nothing. I forgot I still had it," he muttered, fisting his hand around the glass.

"Nothing? It's an arousal potion, Lucius. Why do you need-"

"I don't!" he snapped, but was still unable to meet her eye from shame.

"I didn't realize you were using-"

"I'm not using it! It's... I thought I'd gotten rid of it." As he spoke, his fist tightened, and she saw the blue potion run over his hand, mixed with blood from where the broken glass cut his palm.

"I don't understand."

"You said..." he exhaled sharply. "You thought I..." He broke off again. "You told your sister that I essentially raped you. I knew you weren't enjoying yourself, but after I read that, I couldn't even... I didn't want to hurt you, but we still needed a baby," he finished weakly.

There was a long, uncomfortable stretch of silence. Lucius dropped the shards of glass into the sink as he rinsed his hand, still avoiding her gaze.

"I'm sorry," Narcissa whispered at last, moving forward to wrap her arms around his waist and rest against his back. "I'm so sorry. I was horrible to you."

Lucius shrugged, replying rather morosely, "You were hurting. You were lonely here."

"But if I'd just let you love me! If I hadn't set myself against you from the start, then everything would've been so much easier!"

He shrugged again, and Narcissa pressed her lips to the back of his neck.

"I know better now," she assured him.

"I'm glad," he murmured, running his uninjured hand gently over her arms, but still frowning.

"Don't look like that," she pleaded, kissing him again. "Smile. I love your smile."

In the mirror, he glanced up, startled but pleased. The corner of his mouth quirked upwards, but it was not the full-blown grin she'd hoped for. She slipped in front of him, placing a hand on either side of his face and gazing up at him seriously. "Lucius-" She broke off as a large cloud of steam emitted from her ears. He burst into laughter, and she ducked away in a playful huff.

"Come back," he chuckled, catching her by the waist and spinning her around for a kiss. She complied, giggling as her showered her jaw and throat with tiny pecks. "You're beautiful," he whispered.

"You're wonderful," she told him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He lifted her and carried her back to bed, setting her down and moving his mouth from her shoulder down her arm. "I mean that," she continued as he kissed each finger. "You're a wonderful father; Draco just adores you. And you make me so happy." She sat up suddenly, eyes wide. He paused, lips against her palm.

"Problem?"

"Lucius," she shifted so they were sitting side by side, and stared at him in wonder. "I think I'm falling in love with you."

* * *

(A/N: No angst yet, guys, but setting up for it! Thanks for your continued patience and reviews)


	33. Chapter 33

"-and his diapers are right over there, and make sure he always has his blanket with him, and if he starts to cry, you can try reading this to him, he loves the pictures, but if that doesn't work, he likes music, too, and-"

"Narcissa. Dear."

"-his bedtime is seven thirty, but sometimes you just have to let him stay up until eight or he'll fuss, and he loves being outside, but noises at night scare him, so don't be out too late, and he loves mirrors, too, he's just starting to be fascinated by them, so sometimes, if he's crying you can-"

"Narcissa, I think she knows. You've been over all this already. Twice."

"-take him to the one in the main parlor, because it's the biggest. Oh, and I almost forgot-"

"My wife thanks you very much for watching our son this evening," Lucius cut her off at last, nodding politely to the young woman.

"I don't see why Severus can't just-"

"Because Severus is a licensed Potioneer with duties that extend beyond childcare."

"I suppose you're right," she sighed, defeated, before turning back to the hired caretaker. "Have a nice evening, floo the restaurant if anything happens."

"Of course, Mrs. Malfoy. You two have a nice evening."

Lucius steered her out of the room by her elbow, and Draco began to wail the moment they vanished from sight.

"Maybe I should just," Narcissa turned, looking wistfully over her shoulder. "Maybe we should just-"

"Narcissa," he murmured, capturing her chin in his hand and turning her face up to his. "I've had a very long, busy week, during which I've been mercilessly deprived of the glowing presence of my lovely wife. I have, however, seen lots of my screaming son at all odd hours of the night. Please. We're going to go to the Halcyon, fool around a bit on the way home, and walk through the door to find him screaming just as loudly as he is now, and the nanny in tears and declaring that she'll never come back. Just like the last five."

"He never cries when Severus watches him."

"And I'm not entirely convinced that isn't because Severus drugs him. Now, shall we go? They'll hold our reservation, of course, but Bayard will be expecting us, and darling, I'm quite famished."

"Yes, alright," she surrendered at last, allowing herself to be guided out the front door. "But only because you promised there would be fooling around."

He flashed her a quick grin, and lifted her into the carriage. "We don't even have to wait for the flight home, if you don't want to."

Narcissa laughingly accepted his kisses, but once they were both inside the carriage and the door was closed, he drew away. "But in all honesty, I feel as though we haven't spoken all week."

"Well," she agreed, snuggling up to his side. "That's true. And we have had sex. So I suppose we can wait." She let her hand fall innocently into his lap, grinning mischievously. Lucius gently lifted the hand, lacing her fingers through his.

"That's right, we have." He sounded almost chagrined, but Narcissa had made it quite clear that she did not mind when he stumbled in, past midnight, beyond eager to touch her. His movements were impatient and filled with a raw, hard need that made these trysts some of Narcissa's favorites. Most of the past week had been like this, but he had yet to wake her up in the middle of the night to chat.

"Tell me about your week," he prompted.

"Well, I spent most of it with Lyssa. She and Rabastan are trying for a baby, actually. No luck, yet, but they've just started. Wouldn't it be wonderful if they had a girl? And then she and Draco could grow up together, and get married-"

"Along that line, I've been thinking that we shouldn't arrange a marriage for Draco."

She stared at him, nonplussed. "Well, of course we shouldn't. Were we even considering it?"

"It's something of a tradition, in the Malfoy family. You and I-"

"And everything has worked out just fine with the two of us, eventually, better than fine. But we can't do the same for Draco."

"Well, yes, that's what I'm saying."

"Perfect, then." She kissed his cheek. "Now tell me about your week."

"Busy," he sighed, slumping into the plush seat cushions. Narcissa was surprise by the gesture, which belied his exhaustion, but he quickly straightened up, as though he realized he was showing some sort of weakness. "The Ministry is in an uproar, which is to be expected, but I never imagined it would generate so much paperwork. The Minister is convinced I know more than I'm letting on- as a rich Pureblood, she doubts that I haven't at least been approached by the Dark lord. Fortunately, she thinks I'm remaining relatively quiet for my protection from _him_, rather than keeping my true allegiance hidden. I need to present a respectable face, of course, but raids and missions are becoming almost a nightly occurrence. Not that I mind; none are more devoted than I, but..." he sighed again. "It's just been a busy week. I hate that Draco is asleep when I leave and when I get home, and I only see him at night when he's crying in his sleep. I hate that I need to fight for time to talk to you, that I don't have time to kiss you and make love to you and- if you'll pardon my language- all I've got energy for when I get home is a quick fuck and then I'm passed out until six, when it's time to get back up."

Narcissa scooted into his lap, pressing her lips to his throat. "I do miss you, but I understand you have things that need to be done. And I certainly don't mind the fucking," she teased, kissing his forehead and his tired eyelids.

He hummed in gentle approval, rooting his fingers in her hair and pulling her mouth down to his. He could talk all he wanted, but, so deprived as a child and young man, he could not feel that he'd fully expressed himself without some sort of physical emphasis.

"But it's not just fucking to me," he promised he quietly. "It's just all I have time for."

"I know, love. It's alright to be tired every once in a while."

He shook his head. "You make me happy," he confessed. "Everything about you. I love touching you," he admitted, "maybe more than I should."

"And why shouldn't you?"

"I'm concerned that I've become dependent on you. On holding you, or touching you. The only thing that's pulled me through this bloody awful week was knowing that I'd go home, and you'd be there." He worried that he was merely using her as an outlet for all of his stress and frustration, and even more so that he was fairly certain that he couldn't do without her, but Narcissa was flattered by his evident need for her.

"Look, we're here."

Lucius climbed out of the carriage first, offering his hand to assist Narcissa in her descent. They were greeted warmly and shown to their usually seat. After the customary visit from Chef Dureau, Narcissa folded her hands in her lap and leaned forward with a conspiratorial smile.

"The dress is new." She touched the low neckline flirtatiously. "Do you like it?"

"A bit prudish, isn't it?" he drawled. Narcissa shrugged.

"Stuffy company, what are you going to do? However, underneath this gown, I have something you'll like better."

He flashed her a quick, covert grin. "I can hardly wait."

Once inside, they were greeted warmly and led to their usual table. Shortly after being given menus, Chef Dureau swept out of the kitchens and snatched them away, declaring to be insulted that they'd even consider such a thing. After he left, they both settled into their seats, smiling.

"It is nice here, isn't it?" Narcissa mused.

"The very nicest," Lucius agreed.

"_You're _nice," she grinned. He chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair.

"I've been called an awful lot of things in my life, darling, but you're certainly the first to call me 'nice.'"

"Is that a bad thing? Would you prefer arrogant bastard?"

"It'd be less unusual," he drawled. Narcissa smiled in bemusement.

"No one actually calls you that."

"No, not to my face... cowards."

Narcissa laughed, leaning close for a quick peck.

"You make me happy," she whispered against his lips. He pulled back slowly, cocking his head to the side. "Narcissa?"

"Hm?"

He stared at her unfathomably for a moment longer, before sliding out of his chair and onto one knee.

"Would you marry me?" He stared up at her, eyes bright and sincere. Narcissa glanced around uncomfortably.

"Darling," she whispered, "we're already married."

"I know that. I'm not asking if you _will _marry me. I'm asking you, if things were different- very different- but I was as I am and you were as you are, would you choose to marry me?"

For a long moment, Narcissa was speechless. She couldn't fathom another scenario that would have brought them to where they were, but was hardly the point.

"Lucius..." she breathed, "yes. Of course I would. I love you."

Immediately, his face lit up into one of his grins that she so adored, and he slid the ring onto her finger so it rested beside her wedding band.

"You don't just think it?"

"No, I know it. It's different than before; it's more mature, and stable... I suppose we are adults, aren't we? But it's just so... right, isn't it? Everything just feels perfect. It's not like when everything was hormonal and impulsive..." She shook her head, struggling to express herself properly. "Everything is so clear now. I just... I love you so much, and it makes so much..._ sense. _Everything is right, now."

* * *

(A/N: Until the next chapter...)


	34. Chapter 34

Narcissa was woken the next morning by a warm nuzzling at her throat. Without opening her eyes, Narcissa placed her hand on Lucius's head, and laced her fingers in his hair.

"So, will this be a long engagement or a short one? I'd like to be Mrs. Lucius Malfoy sooner rather than later, if you don't mind."

He chuckled softly, placing tiny pecks along the line of her jaw. "I've already filed the necessary paperwork. You can start introducing yourself as Narcissa Malfoy from now on, if you'd like."

"Splendid plan," she giggled, eyes popping open so she could grin at him. "As the new Mrs. Malfoy, I'd like you to please exercise your conjugal rights as my husband."

"Right now?" The corner of his mouth curled upwards, and his hand immediately began to creep along her thigh.

"Yes, before our out-of-wedlock little son wakes up," she drawled, though her eyes shone.

"I guess we'll need to change his name from Fitzmalfoy to Malfoy then," he purred distractedly, diving beneath the blanket to kiss her stomach.

"And you'll name him as your heir?"

"As long as none of my other wives come forward to claim their sons' inheritance, I don't see why not."

Narcissa's peals of laughter quickly melted into gasps and moans, and Lucius was decidedly late for his first meeting that day.

* * *

"-And, Lyssa, he got down on one knee and everything, isn't it the sweetest thing?"

"Sweetie, that's a gorgeous rock."

"Apparently it was his grandmother's, and his great-great grandmother's before that. It's an heirloom! Lucius explained that there are three, so this one will go to my great-grandson's wife, Aethel's will go to my grandson's, and Lucius's grandmother's… oh, I forget her name… but that'll be Draco's wife's."

"It's huge, though!"

Narcissa grinned. "Tastefully so, I think."

"Well, of course! How many karats, do you think? Oh, don't answer that!" Lysandra laughed and sprang to her feet, grabbing Narcissa's hand. "Let go get lunch, in a really sunny cafe where everyone can see!"

Narcissa scooped up Draco in her free arm, and the two women headed out of the flat Lysandra and Rabastan shared.

"How's Rabastan been lately?"

"Oh, you know," she waved a hand disinterestedly. "He's always so busy, it's absolutely no fun. All this Death Eater business..." Lysandra shook her head, as though serving the most powerful wizard of all time were a menial and thankless secretarial post. "And he comes home, _always_ wanting sex, just sex, all the time, waking me up at three in the morning... And I mean, I _do _want a baby, so I let him when I'm ovulating, but I like a bit of romance, you know?"

Narcissa nodded. "Lucius is the same way, I don't mind though... Well, I do _miss _him being around, and it exhausts him, though he doesn't like to let on... But I suppose it's difficult for them, leading double lives. Lucius is at the Ministry almost every single day and leads raids on Muggle villages most nights- he could handle one or the other without a wink of stress, I know it, but he insists on taking on both, and it's taking up all his time! There are only so many hours in the day, and he _does _need sleep. And sex," she added as an afterthought. "It's almost like sex relaxes him more than sleep. He certainly_ wants _it more than he wants sleep," she laughed.

"Well, that's men for you!" Lysandra agreed. "Rabby comes home at all odd hours, and what he really needs is just to be given a warm glass of milk and a nice nap, but of course he doesn't want what's good for him. I swear, they must hand out goblets of testosterone at those bloody meetings; Jen tells me her Rodtimer is the exact same way..." she shook her head. "_Boys._"

"Well, what's to be done when there's all that adrenaline and magic and competitive spirit going around?"

"What's to be done? The wives, apparently. That archaic little speech that women used to get about sex up until our grandmothers' generation? How do you think those prim and proper little pureblooded wives would've handled men who wanted them the way our husbands want us? Why, they'd have to have smelling salts under their pillows to keep them from passing out with shock!" The two young women laughed.

"Could I hold Draco for a little while?" Lysandra asked as they settled into a nearby café and set their bags down. "After all, I should probably practice!"

"Of course you can! He's a little sleepy right now, so he may fuss a bit, but don't worry."

"He's a beautiful darling," Lysandra crooned. "He's got his daddy's eyes."

"Lucius's hair, too; it's so light blonde. And it's hard to tell with those chubby little cheeks, but hopefully his daddy's lovely cheekbones. My nose," she murmured happily, "and my smile, too, you can ready see the little dimples when he's really happy about something."

"Your life is perfect, isn't it?" Lysandra smiled, stroking Draco's cheek.

Narcissa laughed. "It took some work getting there, but I'm so happy now."

Lysandra beamed at her, her even white teeth shining. It had taken Narcissa some time to adjust to her friend's too-perfect appearance, as though she'd always just sauntered off the pages of _Witch Weekly_. Narcissa smiled back, feeling distinctly average.

"Let's order, sweetie, I'm starving. I could kill for a good _café au lait. _What are you getting?"

"Muffin, maybe?" she suggested mildly. "Although what I'm really dying for is some watermelon. Isn't that strange?"

"A bit, and I don't know that it's in season." Her eyes suddenly grew huge. "Oh Merlin, Cissy, strange cravings? You don't think you might have another little one on the way?"

"Not possible," Narcissa assured her, though rather sadly. "There was an accident before I had Draco, it was a dreadful delivery... anyway, I can't have more children."

"Can't... or shouldn't?"

Narcissa paused. She didn't know if Draco's birth had physically eliminated the possibility of having a child, or if she should be taking precautionary measures to ensure that she didn't. "I think can't."

Lysandra grimaced in sympathy. "I'm sorry, sweetie. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," replied Narcissa. "I have Draco, I have a husband who loves me and whom I adore. What's done is done."

"Fair enough. A loving husband with such fantastic taste in jewelry is nothing to complain about!" she laughed. "Let me see it again?" she begged, gesturing to Narcissa's left hand.

Narcissa obliged happily.

* * *

Lucius wasn't there when she returned, though it was only late afternoon, and she hadn't really expected him to be. However, as supper approached and there was still no sign of him, Narcissa chose not to let the third plate go to waste, and flooed Severus.

"Lucius is out- do you want to come over to eat?"

He seemed vaguely wary of the invitation, and Narcissa could hardly blame him after all the child care they'd coerced him into, but he eventually agreed to come over at eight. She doubted that he had any plans until then, but waited patiently nonetheless. The knocker sounded at precisely eight o'clock, and Narcissa opened the door, beaming.

"We could sit in the formal dining room, but Lucius is out and I don't like it in there," she announced brightly, before pausing with a scowl. "That is to say... I don't dislike it, it's...er... a traditional Malfoy... Oh, it's just hideous, isn't it?" she finished hopelessly, surrendering to her impulse to speak freely to him. He shrugged, impassive to the decor of her home.

"So where is Lucius tonight?" he asked mildly, shaking his head quickly when she held out Draco, offering to let him hold the boy.

"Oh, I'm not sure," she sighed. "It's too late for work, so perhaps one of his nocturnal adventures?"

Narcissa paused after she'd spoken. "Although... you'd be with him, wouldn't you?"

Severus shrugged. "Probably, but not necessarily."

"Well, maybe he's just working late, then. He never owls, though. I don't mind; I trust him. Well, I do mind a bit, but only because I worry. And because he's so very handsome." Narcissa gave a mournful sigh, glancing at the clock. "Oh, no, what am I saying? I do trust him. Entirely."

"Glad to hear it," Severus muttered under his breath.

"Let's go eat now, shall we?"

Severus nodded, and followed her into a smaller, family dining room.

"So what have you been up to lately?" Narcissa asked as they were served by the elves.

"I've been working on a potion to diminish the behavioral side effects of lycanthropy, as well as experimenting with vampire venom in different poisons. Also, I just need to find the right suffix for a new spell I've come up with."

"We should find you a girlfriend."

For some reason, this caused Severus to turn a faint pink, and he wouldn't meet her eye. "I think I've quite enough to occupy my time."

"Are you shy?" she teased. "Severus, lots of girls like lethal potions and curses."

"I don't want to discuss it."

Narcissa was going to press the issue, but stopped when she saw the serious look on his face.

"Alright, then. But at least consider a vacation. You look tired."

"Life is busy for those of us who aren't housewives."

Narcissa laughed at the jibe, and the corner of Severus's mouth twitched as well.

After eating, Narcissa put Draco to bed and they moved to her study. The next couple of hours passed in companionable conversation, but at ten, Severus rose.

"Thank you for supper."

"Leaving already?" she asked sadly, rising to her feet. "Well, alright then. I'll tell Lucius you say 'hello'."

He nodded briefly and headed towards the fireplace. "It's alright if I use your floo?"

"Of course. Good bye, then."

After he vanished, Narcissa settled in a wingchair before the fire in glum silence. She wondered if Severus's abrupt departure had anything to do with the master both he and her husband served. If so, Lucius wouldn't be home until much later. She knew she should go to bed, but decided to wait just a bit longer before retiring, in hopes that he would return soon.

Near midnight, Narcissa was wrenched from her sleep by a panicked cry.

"Cissy! Oh, Narcissa!"

Her head swiveled in confusion, but she finally realized that the voice came from the hearth in front of her.

"Lyssa!" she gasped, dropping to her knees before the green flame that revealed her friend's tearful face. "Are you hurt? Is Rabastan-"

"You husband, Narcissa!" she sobbed, too distressed to formulate a clear sentence. "He's... he's..."

Narcissa's blood was ice. "What's happened?" she demanded, beginning to shake. "Is he hurt? What's going on? You have to tell me! Lyssa-"

"Narcissa, he's cheating on you!"


	35. Chapter 35

For a split second, Narcissa couldn't breathe. Then, the air expelled from her lungs in a little laugh. She sat back calmly.

"Oh, Lyssa. You scared me for a moment. I don't know what hateful gossip you've been listening to, but it's not true. Lucius love me more than words, and nothing would ever make him be unfaithful. He'd die first." There was no trace of doubt in her tone.

"Oh, Cissy," she wiped tears from her face. "I thought so, too. I didn't believe it either, but... oh, I've got to show you this. Can I come over?"

"Of course, Lyssa," she permitted, stepping back. "Now, listen," she murmured patiently when Lysandra appeared before her in entirety. "Calm down. Lucius and I are-"

"Look at this, Narcissa!" she cried, thrusting what seemed to be a small vial in her hand. "This!"

The corked bottle contained a silvery substance Narcissa knew immediately to be a memory.

"Whose is it? What's it of?"

"This horrible girl I know... she was in Madam Malkins with a friend, and I heard her bragging, _bragging, _Narcissa! in her horrid nasally voice about how she'd... she'd... she had sex with your husband, Cissy! I immediately walked over and told her she was wrong, that I knew both Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, and that that would never happen! We argued for a while, and she finally gave me this... It makes me sick to watch, but you have to see!"

Frowning, Narcissa found a decorative bowl on a nearby table. "Alright, Lyssa, but it in here, and I'll look. But remember, memories can be forged, you know."

"I do know Cissy, but there's just too much... detail," she finished in a devastated whisper.

"Let's go, then." Narcissa placed her face near the surface of the pseudo-pensieve, and found herself sucked into a sunny flat. Lysandra landed beside her a second later.

"Oh... oh, _Lucius!_"

On the floor in front of them, two nude bodies were twisted together, mid-coitus. The woman had blonde curly hair and her face was turned away, and the second was unmistakably Narcissa's husband.

"Oh, Merlin," he gasped, mouth moving hastily over the woman's neck. "You're so beautiful. Perfect."

For a moment, Narcissa thought she might be sick. Her eyes clenched shut, mind rebelling against the scene before her. She tried to remember her own words- _memories can be forged._

Her eyes opened, and she forced herself to study any mistakes that would be evidence of a falsified recollection. She ignored the mystery woman and instead focused on Lucius; she knew her husband better than anyone.

_There._ As soon as she spotted it, tears welled in her eyes. On his left hip there was a long white scar from a childhood injury. Only someone who had seen his naked body would know about the scar, and prior to their marriage, the only woman who'd ever seen Lucius unclothed had been Chelsea. She looked back at the woman, but her face was blocked by Lucius's. However, Narcissa knew Chelsea had brown hair; this woman's was a shimmering blonde. There was only one explanation: this was a different woman entirely.

This was a woman who'd been with Lucius during their marriage.

"Lys," she choked, turning away. "Get us out."

Lysandra quickly obeyed. "Cissy," she whispered as they stumbled back into the Malfoy Manor. "I'm so sorry. I debated whether or not I should tell you, but I felt you deserved to know."

"I don't understand," Narcissa whispered, sinking onto a settee. "He loves me. I know he loves me. He loves me so, so much, and I love him."

Lysandra sat beside her, putting and arm around her shoulder. "Sweetie, I'm sorry."

The minutes ticked by, in silence, and finally, Narcissa rose. "I have to... I have to think."

"Think?"

"I don't know what to do," she confessed. "I can't live without him, and I can't ruin Draco's chances at a normal life, and I can't stand the idea of how our relationship will change once he knows I know. But at the same time... I don't want him to touch me if he's touching other women. I don't even know if I can look at him. I need to think."

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Lysandra offered, but Narcissa was shaking her head before she'd finished the sentence.

"I need to be alone."

Lysandra nodded, rising and sweeping the memory out of the bowl and into the glass once more.

"Will you leave it, Lyssa?"

She grimaced. "Cissy, don't do that to yourself. Watching it again won't help anything. I'll hold onto in case... well, divorce courts being what they are... if you decide to go that way, I mean. But it'll only hurt you if I leave this here."

Narcissa shrugged in defeat, knowing she was right.

"I'll check up on you tomorrow. Or how about you floo me when you've figured out what to do?" She gave Narcissa a quick peck on the cheek. "I'm so, so sorry. I'll see you later. Tell me if there's anything I can do." She paused just before stepping into the flames. "Maybe he's at work still? Going to his office might be a good idea."

After she left, Narcissa's feet led her blindly to the bedroom she and Lucius shared. She fell onto the bed without undressing, still fighting to fend off the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. This had to be some sort of misunderstanding. Perhaps there'd been another girl, before they'd met? After all, Lucius hadn't been wearing his wedding band in the memory...

_But then, he wouldn't be, would he? If he was having an affair?_ prodded a sly voice that sounded suspiciously like Bella. _And even if it _was _before you two married, he still lied about his past, so what else could he be hiding?_

This was Lucius, though! This was her husband who'd begged her to say she would have chosen to be his wife, the man who'd confessed that he need her more than anything, that he was nothing without her.

_Think. Remember when you suspected before. That woman who looked guilty that day... what were his exact words after she'd left? Never even think it? That wasn't a denial, not exactly... And you've seen him lie. He does it without flaw._

That's absurd. He meant that the idea of his infidelity was laughable. And then he went on to talk about his old secretary.

Lucius loved her. He had to love her. Everything their relationship was built on was founded in his unwavering love for her.

_Lust and love are two very different things. He was never touched as a child- maybe he views physical intimacy as an indiscriminate thing, to be gotten wherever available?_

No, no, it was precisely the opposite! His lack of physical relations had made him value theirs above all else. Lucius and infidelity were simply two irreconcilable ideas.

Narcissa longed for him to return home, so she could demand the truth. But the hours stretched on, and there was no sign of him, even as dawn approached. She tended to Draco when he woke, but by eight was forced to admit that Lucius would be either on an extended mission or back at the Ministry by now, and not returning home.

_Or with another woman._

Narcissa grit her teeth. She'd spent the whole night in miserable worry, and could not bear another moment of uncertainty. There was only one option left.

"Lyssa?"

"Oh, honey, what did you decide?"

"Nothing, yet. Lucius never came home last night. Will you watch Draco? I'm going to go find him at work. I think you're right. I can't just sit around waiting."

"Good idea," Lysandra replied emphatically, lifting Draco into her arms. "And decide what to say there?"

Narcissa nodded. "I just feel like I must be missing something. That memory... it can't be right. You don't understand his past, what he's been through... he loves me too much for this. It just doesn't make sense."

"What about his past?" she asked curiously, but Narcissa shook her head.

"It was just... difficult. I have to go."

"Good luck, Cissy!"

Narcissa elected to floo directly to the Ministry. She'd been only a handful of times, and was slightly disoriented when she emerged from one of the many grates on the left side of the Atrium. She quickly straightened her hair and headed purposefully to the golden gate where witches and wizards were registering their wands.

"Name?"

"Narcissa Malfoy."

"Wand... Elm, ten inches, unicorn hair core?"

"Correct."

"What's your business in the Ministry today?"

"I need to visit my husband."

The watchwizard consulted a file.

"Lucius Malfoy?"

"Yes."

"Level one, office twelve."

"Thank you." She noted a change in the tone of his voice; an increased subservience. Narcissa lofted her chin and continued along. She selected an empty lift, and pressed the button for level one. The contraption shuddered upwards, and ground to a halt at the highest floor.

The office space was elegant and quiet; few had the privilege to work on this level. She glanced down the row of doors, which ended in a single mahogany door protected by what seemed to be a waterfall, but Narcissa knew to be a Thief's Downfall. Narcissa supposed this led to the Minister's private chambers, but was too distracted to care.

A door labeled with the number fifteen was to her left, fourteen to her right, and office number twelve directly beside it. Narcissa heart was pounding in her throat as the turned the brass handle.

She did not open immediately to Lucius's workspace; instead, small room with a desk and secretary needed to be passed to reach the second closed door, which presumably led to her husband. The secretary glanced up in surprise, and Narcissa couldn't help but to stare in shock as well.

The witch looked to be about twenty, with long dark hair and large brown eyes. After a moment, she smiled widely at Narcissa.

"Do you have an appointment with Mr. Malfoy?"

Narcissa couldn't speak. She remembered Lucius's words all too clearly: _She's ninety four. Her name is Bertha Hopkirk, and she's been working different secretarial posts at the Ministry since the late eighteen hundreds._

Perhaps Bertha was out sick today? But her stomach sank as the read the engraved nameplate prominently displayed on the desk: _Roseanne Clarence._

So he'd lied about that, too. Narcissa's head was spinning. She needed to get out.

"No, wrong office, sorry," she managed, stumbling inelegantly out the door.


	36. Chapter 36

"You would not believe the last two days I've had."

Narcissa tensed as Lucius collapsed into bed beside her, fully dressed and voice tight with exhaustion.

"Hm," she replied in a manner that she hoped conveyed stiff disinterest. Lucius rolled over and slung an arm around her waist, burying his face hungrily in her neck.

"First off, sadly-"

He stopped abruptly when he realized her entire body had gone rigid at his touch. He drew back uncertainly.

"Narcissa? Is something wrong?"

"Headache," she managed through numb lips.

"Oh," Lucius replied, sitting up and kicking off his shoes. However, before placing them neatly in the closet, he headed off to the bathroom. This was extremely unusual for him, and Narcissa couldn't help wonder, with sick horror as she heard the water run, if he was quickly washing off the scent of another woman. She closed her eyes before he reemerged, hiding the hurt visible there.

"Darling," he murmured softly, stroking the hair off her face. She twitched her head back, and cracked one lid. Lucius was crouched next to her, eyes circled with dark shadows. He was holding a small vial of potion and a glass of water.

"This will make your headache go away. It tastes a bit bitter, so I brought some water, too."

Narcissa sat up slowly, eyes welling. His gaze was concerned and adoring, and as she stared down his him, the tears spilled over.

"Does it hurt so badly?" he asked with soft urgency, rising with her to sit on the edge of the bed. "Do you need to go to St. Mungo's?"

She shook her head miserably. "I already took some," she lied, staring down at her lap blindly. "Hasn't started working yet."

"Oh. Narcissa, is that all that's upsetting you?"

She nodded hollowly, and sank back onto her pillow. It just didn't make sense; Lucius loved her. Love shone in the worry on his face, and the furrow of his brow. Every gesture and word belied his love for her... so how could he so callously have sex with other women and lie to her?

_He doesn't love them. _She knew it as surely as she knew her own name. There was no chance that he loved any but her, so the promiscuity was the worst of it. She couldn't leave him when they were still so deeply in love.

Lucius bent to kiss her forehead and, lost in thought, she permitted it, but turned away when he tried to dry the tears. She didn't miss the flash of confused pain in his eyes as he drew back and stood up, and for a moment a flame of indignant anger tried to flare within her- _she_ was not the one at fault here- but it died quickly, dampened by her sadness.

With a heavy sigh, Lucius rose and put his shoes in the closet, and undressed with slow, tired motions. He seemed to deliberate for a moment, but after an uncertain glance at his wife, summoned the energy to take a shower. Afterwards, Narcissa heard him brushing his teeth, longer than normal, before he extinguished the lights and crawling into bed next to her.

In the darkness, there was a long pause where Narcissa guessed her was waiting for something. She stared into the nothingness, her back to him and blinked back more tears. Finally, despite her half-hearted rejections earlier, he gathered the nerve to place his hand on the curve of her waist.

"Lucius, my head hurts. I don't want to have sex tonight."

"I know," he told her quickly, and true, he'd made no further advances. Still, Narcissa scooted away from his touch.

"Can I just have a bit of space?" she exhaled, somewhat sharper than she'd meant to.

"Of course," he replied, hastily removing the offending hand. "Good night, Narcissa."

She didn't respond.

"I love you," he continued, and he sounded worried.

_Does he suspect that I know? _she wondered.

Beside her, Lucius's stomach was twisting with repressed panic._ Just calm down, _he told himself firmly. _Just because she's not feeling well, there's no need to think she's upset with you. _She had told him before that, just because she didn't want sex, it wasn't because he'd done something wrong- he repeated this to himself over and over again. But he didn't need to have sex with her right now; he just wanted to hold her. Why couldn't he do that? Was it such a bad headache that it made her want no contact at all?

Deep down inside, Lucius knew this wasn't true. Something was bothering her, and even if she didn't want to share right now, he assured himself that she would soon.

However, that didn't help him tonight. Every bone in his body ached in exhaustion, and if she'd just let him put his arm around her, he knew that he'd fall asleep immediately. If he could just... but, no. Not if it would cause her further discomfort.

Meanwhile, Narcissa's left arm was throbbing from laying on her side for so long. She never slept in that position, and it was immensely uncomfortable, so at last, she rolled on her back to relieve the pressure, all the while keeping a safe distance from the man beside her.

The minutes stretched on, and Narcissa was dozing off when she felt the lightest tickle against her knuckle. She twitched awake, fearing a bug, but it dawned on her that it had been only the brush of Lucius's fingers. She settled, waiting to see what he wanted, and was rather surprised to feel his hand slide beneath hers, palm up.

Narcissa was grateful for her darkness, because tears were flowing unbidden now, over her temples and into her hair as she stared up at the blackness of the ceiling. He wasn't looking for sex; he just wanted to hold hands with her as they fell asleep.

In all honesty, she wanted it too, but recalled too vividly that those hands, during their marriage, had caressed other women. Trying not to gasp a sob, she withdrew her hand and placed it on the sheets a bit further away. She could almost hear Lucius's crushed expression, and normally he would give up, but it was obvious that his need to have some physical contact with her was overwhelming him.

He shifted anxiously, and waited once more. He could just barely distinguish the shape of her white hand, and once her breaths became deep and even, let his hand creep across the mattress once more. He didn't make the mistake of disturbing her this time; instead, he carefully let the side of his hand touch hers, their pinky fingers side by side. Heaving a deep breath, Lucius shut his eyes and firmly told himself that it was enough.

* * *

The next morning, Narcissa woke to find the bed beside her empty. However, Draco's shrieks of happiness could be heard from the nursery, so she could rest assured that her husband was still in the Manor. She dressed but did not join them; instead, she headed down to the dining room for breakfast. Lucius appeared several minutes later, looking confused.

"I didn't realize you were up," he murmured as he fixed Draco in his highchair. "We always have breakfast together."

"When you're home," she replied coolly.

"But... I am home."

She shrugged, efficiently ending the conversation. Lucius watched her carefully as he was served, and didn't touch his food.

"Narcissa, please tell me what's upsetting you."

"Nothing," she insisted. "Absolutely nothing at all."

"Are you feeling better?"

Narcissa nodded, not meeting his eye. Lucius fingered his silverware, but seemed to have no appetite.

"How was your day yesterday?"

_The worst of my life. _"Oh, it was alright. Lyssa and I went out. She's quite taken with Draco, you know. She wants her own baby so badly. And Severus came over for dinner; he's doing well, keeping busy with working. He says hello."

Lucius nodded. "I've been quite busy the past two days. Firstly, when I got to work the day before yesterday, I learned that my secretary-"

"Lucius," she interrupted abruptly, rising before she could think. She didn't want to hear any lies about the likely-fictitious Bertha Hopkirk. "I have to just the loo. And don't you need to be leaving for work soon?"

Lucius swallowed whatever words had been forthcoming, and stared at her for a long moment before nodding slowly. "I suppose I do. But if there's something you want to tell me-"

"There's nothing, Lucius!" she exclaimed, hurrying from the room. Once out of sight, she figured she had little option but to go to the lavatory.

When she returned, Lucius was cleaning Draco up and lifted him from his chair.

"I should probably go now," he murmured, stealing a glance at her. Narcissa nodded, and stepped forward to take their son.

"Have a nice day at work," she told him automatically.

He nodded. "I love you, Narcissa." His voice sounded hoarse.

"Love you too," she replied mechanically, reaching for Draco.

Heart pounding and throat dry, as he passed her their son, he swiftly ducked his head to kiss her. He needed to know that he could; he needed the physical affirmation of what she'd just told him.

Narcissa had foreseen the move, and stepped aside with her boy securely in her arms. "Goodbye, then."

He was silent for an uncomfortably long beat, staring blankly at the air where she'd stood a moment before. "I'll see you for supper, then," he managed roughly at last, heading for the fireplace in his study to floo.

Narcissa doubted she could keep this up for too long. It was difficult to be cruel to him when he looked at her as though every cold word or gesture broke his heart. Once she was certain he'd gone, Narcissa headed for her own hearth.

"Lyssa? Are you there?" she called, eyes moving over the flat the Lestranges shared. After a minute, Lysandra emerged from the corridor that led to her bedroom wearing only a bathrobe.

"Merlin Cissy, it's early! What's up?"

"Can you come over? I need to talk to you," she choked.

"Yeah, alright," she agreed quickly, not even bothering to dress for the day as she moved towards the fire. "Stand back."

A second later, she appeared in the Manor.

"What's going on?"

"I love him, Lyssa. And he loves me. I can't leave him."

Lysandra frowned. "After what he's done- what he may be _doing,_ as we speak! -you're just going to go on as if nothing is wrong?"

"No. I'm going to confront him. Tell him I know and ask him to stop."

Lysandra was still frowning. "Not a good idea, Narcissa. Remember that time you told me about, when he offered you divorce papers because he thought it would make you happy? What if he's so ashamed once he finds out that you know, he can't bear to be married anymore? And even if it's not that extreme, it'll still change your relationship forever; probably get so bad you'll begin to wish you'd just left him."

"I don't want to leave him! Ever!" she cried. "But I can't stand the thought of him touching me, knowing what he's doing to other women."

"But then-" Lysandra broke off abruptly, eyes widening. "Oh, Cissy, then don't! Make your marriage how _you _want it. Listen to him talk about his day, share your feelings and thoughts- those unrelated to his infidelity, of course- and life will go on. But no sex. Absolutely no touching. He's already getting that from other women, and if he's sullying himself with them, you shouldn't have to share in that filth."

Narcissa hesitated. "I don't know if that would work."

"Of course it will! You're the most important _emotional _bond in his life. Sex he can get anywhere, but _you_, you're important. He'll be sad when he can't have you anymore, and maybe it'll make him realize that you're everything he wants, and he'll give up the other women."

"You really think that would do it?" she asked, somewhat doubtful, but Lysandra nodded eagerly.

"Oh Cissy, if you stick with that, I'm sure he'll be swearing off all others in no time."

* * *

(A/N: So it's the last week of summer break, and once school starts, updates will be less frequent, which leads me to this: Based on the dramatically diminishing number of reviews for this story, I'm led to believe that interest in it is decreasing. I promise this isn't one of those If-you-don't-review-I-won't-write sort of situations, but since my time will soon become much more restrained, if there's not much interest in this, then I'll work on some other stories posted on this site. I mean, _I_ already know what happens, so I'd be just as happy to put Forsaken Love on the backburner for a while, so to speak, if you guys aren't into it anymore. Let me know what you think!)


	37. Chapter 37

His laughter went first.

The silence that remained in its wake made the Manor feel cold and empty, in Narcissa's opinion. She believed that Draco missed it too, as the boy spent an inordinate amount of time tapping Lucius's cheek expectantly with his little palm each time he himself found something entertaining and his father did not react. Narcissa was certain she would have relented long ago, had she not been presented so consistently with mementos of his infidelity- a lingering perfume around him; a smear of lipstick on his wrist, as if he'd wiped it off his mouth; long dark hairs that she suspected belonged to his secretary on his cloak. She continued to greet him by the door on the days he went to the Ministry, but a fresh wave of sweet, floral scent would always remind her not to kiss him. Additionally, he'd begun to exercise regularly; another new, suspicious activity that she suspected was intended to attract women. When he undressed, she couldn't bear to see the powerful lines of muscle that were becoming more defined- the thought that his self-improvement was for the benefit of faceless, nameless women was enough to make her blink back tears. Narcissa hated how weak he made her feel; she'd never been so emotional before in her life. He was growing his hair longer, too, and she supposed it was at the recommendation of one of his presumably many whores. But the whore clearly had good taste; the whole effect made him unbearably elegant and handsome.

Narcissa longed to confront him. Nearly every morning, she woke with a new determination, but a deep, gnawing fear never ceased to stop her. What if he did suggest a divorce? She doubted that he would, but they would never have trust in their relationship again. He would be ashamed, and he could certainly take no more shame in his life. Or neglect. In her most unselfish moments, Narcissa considered his past, and wondered if indiscriminate sex was in some way making him a more whole person. It didn't seem to be; but perhaps that was because their emotional bond was falling apart as well? She tried to talk to him, but the only conversation he ever showed any interest in having was one that might explain her sudden physical withdrawal from him. As a result, Narcissa felt herself filling up their time with chatter about her day, her feelings about family and friends. He always listened; watching her carefully, as though waiting for something, and then looking down in disappointment when she stopped taking and it became clear she would not answer any of his questions.

His smiles left next.

The first time Narcissa noticed it, he was playing with Draco, and their son was fascinated by Lucius shining wristwatch, watching the light reflect off it with evident elation. Normally, such a thing would make Lucius chuckle, but his eyes merely glimmered with amusement while his face remained expressionless, just as it had early in their marriage. Upon seeing the look, Narcissa had rushed from the room to hide her horror.

Furthermore, Lucius wasn't sleeping well. He sat up with a jerk several times a night, gasping for breath and drenched in a cold sweat. When he did sleep, he tossed restlessly, often muttering under his breath. Narcissa found it impossible to get much rest with his constant movement, and on the tenth night in a row of being woken at two in the morning, she finally demanded,

"Lucius! For Merlin's sake, stop it!"

"Sorry," he muttered, rubbing his face vigorously with shaking hands. "I think I need... a drink." He didn't summon an elf; instead, he stumbled over to the bathroom to splash his face with cold water. He returned to bed looking thoroughly shaken, and despite her exhaustion, Narcissa propped herself up on her elbows.

"You've been talking in your sleep. Are you having nightmares?"

He shook his head, refusing to look at her.

"You can tell me, if you are."

"I'm not."

"Sometimes, nightmares can be premonitions. Once, my sister-"

"Tell me why you won't let me touch you, Narcissa." His voice was flat, and he stared up at the ceiling with determination. Narcissa blanched, struggling with a response to the direct demand.

"Have I done something to upset you?" he asked roughly. "I've been replaying that last day over and over in my head. We made love that morning, and you were laughing when you kissed me goodbye. I was gone for two days, because I was summoned by him that night, but I've been gone longer. What am I missing?"

"I'm not angry with you, Lucius," she whispered.

"No? You agreed we'd have no secrets. Tell me."

"I just... haven't wanted to have sex. I've been tired."

"It's not just sex, and don't act as though it is."

"Lucius..." she stalled, "can't we just talk about this in the morning?"

"I can't wait until the morning. I need you to tell me now. Do you not love me anymore?"

Her stomach lurched. "Of course I love you!" she cried. _More than you love me, it would seem._

"What, then? Are you seriously ill? Does it... does it have to do with Yaxley?"

"No! I love _you_, Lucius, not him."

"Are you... bothered by my service to the Dark lord? But you've always known about that. Are you not attracted to me anymore?"

Narcissa opened her mouth to deny the last fervently, but before the words could form, a new idea occurred to her. Would it work?

"Yes, Lucius. That's it," she told him quietly. She refused to look at him; she couldn't bear to see the shocked hurt she'd caused with her blunt response. "It happens to a lot of couples; couples that love one another desperately, and simply lose interest in sex," she assured in him in what sounded like an offhand tone.

"Forever?"

"Well, probably."

"Narcissa..." His voice was ragged. "That happens to couples who've grown old together, after decades of marriage. Even then, not always."

"Lucius," she tried to sound reassuring. "You'll get used to not having to touch anymore. We're still us, and we still love each other. We don't need physical contact if we have a real, emotional bond. Physicality is superfluous, isn't it? If we really love each other. The physical part isn't important," Narcissa told him, primarily reassuring herself. If the physical part wasn't important, then their relationship still stood a chance. "Sex is just sex. You and I don't need it. After a while, I'm sure you won't even miss it."

Lucius was silent for such a long time after her final words, she began to wonder if he'd fallen asleep. At last, she chanced a look at him, to see if he intended to reply. He was staring at the darkness above them.

"Maybe... maybe one day I won't miss making love to you." His words were heavy and slow, as though each syllable hurt him. "Maybe." He sounded doubtful. After a lengthy pause, he continued. "But... I'll never stop wanting to kiss you awake in the morning. I'll never not want to see your eyes open when I do, so full of happiness. When I come home from the Ministry... I won't get used to not being allowed to kiss you then, either, after I've sat through tedious meetings all day and have thought about the moment I'd be returning home since I set foot in the office. I love the way your hand feels in mine, and I love taking showers with you, and I love it when you throw your arms around me when I come home from a mission, just because you're glad I'm safe. And Narcissa, there is _nothing _that could make me stop wanting to hold you in my arms every night when we fall asleep. I'll always miss that."

At last, he turned his head to face her, silently begging her to change her mind. Narcissa tried to offer a reassuring smile, though she was fighting back tears.

"Lucius..." She wanted to gently chide him for being melodramatic. She wanted to tell him that it would make their emotional bond stronger. She wanted to lie to him; but she couldn't for fear that a sob would escape instead of words.

_Then stop having sex with other women._

* * *

"Lyssa... maybe he's not, anymore. He's just been so miserable; I can't imagine him with other women. Maybe if I just let things go back to normal..."

"Cissy, I think that's a bad idea. I already think you're being too easy on him- I'd have thrown Rabastan out the moment I suspected another woman in his life."

"I can't exactly throw him out. I'd have to leave."

"Then why don't you? You have family and friends. Leave and take Draco. Draco doesn't deserve an irresponsible, careless father."

"Lucius is a wonderful father," Narcissa murmured. "It's not fair to criticize his parenting when he's really just an unfaithful husband."

Lysandra shrugged. "Do as you'd like, Cissy. I just worry what's best for _you._ You just look so tired and sad recently."

"I am, Lyssa!" she cried despondently. "I_ am_ tired and sad! And what if this is all for nothing? Maybe he had one slip-up. Maybe the secretary was a temp. I don't even know-"

"Oh, Cissy," Lysandra scooted over to hug her. "It must be dreadful. If you love him and really want to, then forgive him," she crooned, stroking her hair rather heavy handedly. "But Cissy, as your best friend, I feel that I must look out for you. I'm going to sniff around a bit tonight and I'll let you know tomorrow morning if I find anything, alright?"

Narcissa nodded, drawing back. "Thanks, Lys. I just- I _miss _him, you know?"

"Of course I do, honey. Oh, careful there, your hair's caught in my ring." Lysandra stood up, glancing at the clock. "Cissy- I might know a girl who might know someone who could know something about that whore of a secretary your husband hired. I better go and see what I can find out."

"Can I come, too? I'd like to confront the women who Lucius-"

Lysandra was already shaking her head. "Bad idea, sweetie. They'll know you're his wife, and they won't say a word. I've got you covered."

"Thanks, Lyssa," she sighed, sinking back in her chair, looking mournfully at her son, who was currently dozing in her arms. "I hate this," she breathed, throat tight with choked emotion.

"I know, I know," Lysandra patted her back reassuringly. "I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"

* * *

(A/N: Guys... WHOA. First of I want to say THANK YOU to the FIFTY FOUR of you who reviewed the last chapter- I am beyond touched. I wanted to get this up before I leave for school tomorrow, so it's not terribly long, but if a continue to get the kind of response I did from the last chapter, I don't know how I could possibly NOT update asap! Thanks again!)


	38. Chapter 38

"I miss my sister."

Lucius glanced up, slightly startled, with his fork halfway to his mouth. "Why?" The question came out sounding ruder than he'd intended.

"She's been gone for such a long time. What are she and Roddy doing?"

"Travelling. They've been sent abroad. I overheard Rodolphus saying something about vaults back before they left—that was two months ago, but I think they're investigating the security of global banks."

"Isn't Gringotts the safest one on earth?"

Lucius shrugged. "Maybe that's just an assumption. If something truly important needs to be hidden, one can't trust local bias."

"Will she be back soon?" she persisted, poking listlessly at her plate. Lucius shrugged again.

"I wouldn't know."

They lapsed into silence once more. Draco squirmed restlessly in his highchair, seeming distressed by the coldness between the two people he most adored. Narcissa mulled over Lysandra's words as they ate, wondering if her friend really could procure more solid evidence. Her eyes moved mournfully to Lucius's wrist; there was a smear of lipstick on the white fabric. He didn't seem to notice.

Narcissa sighed into her goblet. If Lysandra didn't give her something new tomorrow, she might just be able to forget. She had been so much happier before she'd had any idea about this whole mess. Lucius had been, too. He didn't sleep anymore. At least, not in their bed, to her knowledge. He was awake when she fell asleep and awake in the morning by the time she rose, and occasionally his restless stirring would keep her up at night. She wondered, fleetingly, if he was finding respite elsewhere, but the exhaustion emanating from the set of his shoulders and dull eyes told her otherwise. He had stopped questioning her, which should have been a relief, but he now seemed unable to look at her.

Narcissa took at deep gulp of her wine, and practice prevented her from making a face. She had never really enjoyed alcohol. She felt strongly that it was a rather pointless thing to anyone who did not wish to make a fool of themselves or have relaxed inhibitions, and as a proper girl, she'd never been more than carelessly tipsy. But it was the adult beverage of choice, so she drank wine regularly.

However, as she finished off the dregs in her goblet, a new thought occurred to her. Why not? Lucius would be retiring to his study, and then bed, without a word to her, and he wouldn't have too much... Getting drunk alone should have been a repulsive thought, but if it made her not care, even for the evening... It wasn't as if she was trying illegal potions or drugs, after all. Just a bit of wine. Which was practically grape juice anyway, right?

An elf appeared to refill her goblet, and she sipped it steadily as she watched Lucius out of the corner of her eye. _Beautiful man,_ she thought sadly. _Too beautiful for his own bloody good. _She didn't want other women to have him, she couldn't accept that, but she would forgive him if only he'd stop.

The meal finished in silence. Lucius cleared his plate long before she did, but good breeding and proper manners preventing him from leaving her alone to pick at her food. _Certainly, _Narcissa mused bitterly, _he doesn't _want_ to be sitting here with me. _Was he thinking about other women, she wondered? His gaze was glassy, flicking alternately between Draco and, for long periods of time, his empty dish. She hated to think how stunningly beautiful the other women might be. She played no role in the Manor's finances; in all likelihood, he was buying mistresses fabulously ostentatious presents, perhaps setting them up for his convenience in stylish suites in London and Paris and every city he visited on business. She would scarcely know where to look for evidence. She was already the laughingstock of all the women in the circle they associated themselves with— Lysandra never failed to reminder her that, as Narcissa's closest friend, she could shield her from their hateful mocking words, but she couldn't still their bitter, gossiping tongues; only Narcissa had that power, and she could exert that power by leaving her unfaithful husband. Her Lucius.

As soon as Narcissa slid back to rise, Lucius was on his feet.

"Will you put Draco to bed?" she asked softly, fingering the ornate carving on the high back of the dining chair. She saw his curt nod out of the corner of her eye, and she drifted from the room as he lifted their son. She wished suddenly, fervently, that Draco was not their only child—if she had retained the ability to give him the daughter he'd confessed that he'd always wanted, perhaps he would have found sufficient affection at home? Would it had made a difference? With stabbing horror, a new thought occurred to her: what if Lucius _did_ have a daughter that he saw regularly? A pretty little girl with his shining, straight blonde hair, perhaps the mother's eyes- she shoved the thought violently away, and called for an elf to bring he a bottle of pinot grigio. As she sat staring into the hearth, sipping absently, she let her mind instead wander to happier times. Whenever an unpleasant thought threatened to emerge, she recalled the vivid memory of the first time they had embraced, after he'd read the announcement of Mort's wedding. Remembering the way they would endlessly play games to entertain Draco made her smile, and she couldn't help but to think of the sound of his laughter. She let the memory of the rich sound caress and sooth her aching mind, and her eyes slid closed. She thought with longing of the first time they'd _really _made love, in the middle of the day like two teenagers unable to control themselves for a moment longer, the bliss that followed...

The room was too dark to be spinning, but Narcissa knew her way through it well enough, and Lucius never left anything about that might trip her. She made it safely, if clumsily, to the bathroom, and flicked her wand to illuminate it only after closing the door behind her. She studied her reflection carefully in the large gilded mirror above the marble countertop, frowning slightly. Something about her face looked oddly numb and unfocused, but she ignored this fact and began shedding her robes. Outside, she knew her husband had probably been awoken by her arrival- assuming he'd ever actually fallen asleep- and she felt a tremor of excitement. She was tired of being strong, she wanted him, badly. Finally undressed, Narcissa grinned at her slightly goofy-looking reflection, and extinguished the lights as she re-entered the sleeping chamber.

"Lucius..." she giggled, dragging out the syllables. He turned over as she stumbled, naked, onto the bed beside him.

"Are you drunk?" In a clearer state of mind, she might have been deterred by the derisive tone. However, she merely grinned and shrugged goofily.

"Might be." She winked and wriggled closer, running her hands over his chest and shoulders. He seemed too startled to react. She laughed again, burying her face in his neck and twisting her hips against his.

"Lucius, c'mon," she begged, rolling over onto her back and tugging his arm. "I want you to do that thing with your tongue. You know, where you sort of flick it along my neck and then nibble at my ear? Merlin, I _love _it when you do that."

He still seemed uncertain of how to respond, she Narcissa continued. "Or, when you put your hand on the inside of my thigh, and sort of tickle your way up, and you start out with these light little playful touches and then go faster and it feels so good I just want to _die._"

He was not doing as she asked, merely staring down at her in torn bewilderment, and Narcissa hazily wondered if he didn't know what she was talking about. Keeping her eyes on his, her own hand began to trace the path she'd just described to demonstrate. "You know, like..." her eyes fluttered shut, and she sighed. "But I like it better when you do it," she explained, "because I rather _love _the texture of your fingers."

She opened her eyes. "Lucius, please?"

"You said... Narcissa, you said you weren't attracted to me anymore. What-"

"Well, that was just silly of me!" She craned her neck to kiss his cheek briefly. "You're quite the most gorgeous man I know, and I love you so, _so_ much."

"Narcissa-"

"No, no, no I won't talk about it. I just want you to kiss me. Won't you, please?"

His breathing was coming quicker, and his eyes had a faintly panicked look. She watched curiously as the tip of his tongue moistened his lips, and then she beamed once more.

"Lucius," she climbed on top of him clumsily, spreading her fingers and pressing her hands against his chest. Smirking wickedly, she ground her lower body against him, and as if on their own volition, his hips rose to meet hers, and his hands moved to her waist. However, he rapidly shook his head, jerking back.

"Then why would you say that?" Narcissa was already shaking her head before he'd completed the inquiry."No, Narcissa, you can't just-"

"Do you not want me?" she breathed into his ear, sucking on the lobe and then running her tongue delicately along the outer edge. "Say you don't want me, and I'll stop."

"I- I don't-" he was flushed and bewildered and undeniably aroused, and Narcissa reveled in her victory.

"Say," she challenged slowly, "you don't want..." Emboldened by the alcohol, she grasped his hand and drew it between her legs. "_This._ C'mon. Say it."

"Of course I do," he rasped. "But that doesn't matter; what I want has never mattered in this bloody relationship. What's going on?"

Though in a more sober state it would have been impossible, Narcissa ignored his harsh words and focused solely on his omission.

"You want me," she purred, leaning over so their lips brushed, but she did not kiss him.

"That's never been in question," he snarled, pushing her off of him with more force than she had anticipated. She landed with a small 'oof!' on her back, and Lucius sat up abruptly, swinging his feet to the floor, but not rising.

"Hasn't it?" she demanded, sitting up as well.

"What do you _mean_?" His tone was tortured, and Narcissa crept forward to wind her bare legs around his waist. "You _know_ I love you, of _course _I'm attracted to you- I don't understand what you're trying to say, Narcissa."

She shook her head; she'd already said too much. Instead, she let her fingers skate lightly down his back and across his abdomen and chest, pleased that the simple, tickling movement over his skin had the power to raise goose bumps.

"Lucius," she breathed softly against his neck. The hands that had been wandering aimlessly over his torso slid downwards, and she stifled a giggle against his shoulder as she playfully stroked his knees and thighs, pushing his shorts up to feel the skin of his legs, and just barely allowing her fingertips graze, through the silk, the evidence that he _did _indeed love her, and _did _indeed find her very appealing. However, at the sound of her delight in the misery she was causing him, his head snapped to the side, eyes narrowed and flashing.

"You think you're the only one who can be a tease, is that it?" He rose and whirled to face her, grasping both wrists in one hand and pinning her back against the mattress, though she wasn't resisting. "It this all a game to you?" he hissed, bringing his lips close to her ear as his free hand slid down her side and over her hip. "They say your sister's a sadist, but do you love torturing people just as much, Narcissa? She doesn't hide her sick proclivities, but you veil your desire to see people hurting with those big blue eyes and that innocent smile. Tell me, Narcissa," he panted softly, fingers skating over her inner thigh, "Do you get pleasure from watching me suffer? Do you enjoy knowing you have the power to break me?"

In her drunken haze, Narcissa wasn't really listening to his words- she instead focused on the hot breath on her neck, and the hand between her legs. She lifted her hips impatiently, pressing their bodies together and squirming against him with a dissatisfied whimper. A groan caught in Lucius's throat, but he refused to give in quite yet.

"Do you love me, Narcissa?"

"Yes," she whispered back, freeing her wrists from his grasp and twining them around his neck to pull him closer still.

"And do you want me? Want _this?_" he demanded, rubbing gently between her legs at a pace that did not match his harsh tone, but caused a moan to slip from her lips.

"Oh, Merlin, Lucius. _Yes._"

And at last, as she knew it would, his willful determination crumbled, and he crushed his mouth to hers.

* * *

The first thing Narcissa became aware of was the horrible pounding in her head. Next, she noticed the sticky dryness in her mouth. Sensation worked its way down to her midsection, where her stomach churned uneasily. Furthermore, her inner thighs ached, though not in an entirely unpleasant way, although that wasn't from the wine, that was from-

Narcissa sat bolt upright, then slumped back with a low groan, cradling her head. The bed was empty, which meant that Lucius had already left for work. Lucius at work- wasn't that meant to remind her of something?

_Lysandra. _Lyssa was going to give her new evidence today. Something about Lucius at work and possibly his secretary? She rose more slowly this time, a tremor running through her as she recalled the previous night. Maybe she didn't want to know.

She rubbed her eyes vigorously, and slipped out of bed. She needed to shower and sort out her thoughts. Last night had been- _well. _Wonderful. She'd almost forgotten how good it felt to have Lucius touch her, or the peace of falling asleep in his arms. How could a man, she wondered as she turned on the stream of steamy water, who loved her- who _adored _her- so very much, possibly carry on with other women as well?

She scrubbed her scalp vigorously, as though she could will an answer to materialize that would solve all her problems. Finding none, she let the stream from overhead wash away the shampoo, and switched off the water. She reached for a towel, savoring its warmth and comfort as she wrapped it around her dripping body and emerged into the bedroom. A dark owl was perched in the window, a letter tied neatly to its leg. It politely waited for her to let it in, and held out its leg patiently. The message it carried was brief:

_Cissy, you won't believe it unless you see it. Meet me on the Muggle side of the Leaky Cauldron at noon. Don't be late. Don't bring Draco._

_-Lyssa_

Narcissa swallowed hard, and replied with simply "_I'll be there._"

* * *

"Narcissa." Lysandra had enfolded her in a hug before she could even manage a greeting. "Come, we're going to the Ministry. I just wanted to meet up somewhere safe first. I have from a trusted source that he's been having company on his lunch hour; that's why you couldn't be late, we have a limited window. Here, let's use the public floo." She ushered Narcissa inside the dingy pub, glancing around furtively. "Now, when we get there- Narcissa, you _mustn't _cause a scene. I know you've every right to call the whore out, but it'll put me in a bit of a bad spot... y'know what I mean?"

"Er... not really," Narcissa confessed.

"Well you see, the girl's a sister of a friend of one of my dearest friends, and I don't want to cause family drama and I'm doing this as a favor to you, the friend who clued me in made me swear not to breathe a word about it to you. But I felt that you ought to have proof, just for your own personal vindication." She stopped in front of the hearth. "If you think you'll yell and call them out while we're there, I simply can't take you."

"Yes, alright," Narcissa agreed warily. "I suppose I shan't say a word. Where are they within the ministry, precisely?"

Lysandra tossed a handful of floo powder into the flames and pulled Narcissa in beside her.

"Ministry of Magic, Atrium!" she called clearly. "Oh, you won't believe the brazen bastard," she continued as they headed over to have their wands examined. "Doesn't even try to sneak around as he ought. Oh, no, we'll find him up in his office."

Narcissa's heart was beginning to thud uncomfortably in her chest, and she felt an uneasy squirming in her stomach.

"Maybe we shouldn't, Lys," she whispered, hesitating after they'd been cleared for entrance. "Maybe-"

"Maybe what? Maybe you don't want to know? You want to be that woman who turns a blind eye to her ungrateful husband's philandering? Everyone will pity you anyway, but if you just accept it... Well, I don't know how you can respect yourself. It's bad enough that you won't leave him, but there are questions of honor there, and what's best for Draco, so that's at least understandable, but for Merlin's sake Narcissa, I thought you were more than a sniveling shadow, willing to lay down your self-worth at the feet of a man who treats you terribly. At least your feelings for Rodtimer were understandable; he was wonderful and devoted like he is to Jen now."

Lysandra grasped her arm firmly and led her to the nearest lift. "I've tried playing nice, Narcissa, but you need to see for yourself."

"Listen to me," Narcissa voice was cold, and she wrenched her arm from her friend's grip as the grate slid closed and the lift began to move. "I love him. And I realize," she continued loudly, as Lysandra tried to cut in, "that that may be a mistake. But even if I did not love him, divorce is not a viable option. Not for me, not for my family's name, but most of all, not for Draco. If you're right, if he is here with... someone else, I'm hoping it will be the evidence that I need to stop caring for him so deeply. If I could live with him and not love him- well, it's certainly not ideal, but it would be easier than suffering each day, worrying every night. If I could just... fall out of love with him, then we might be able to live compatibly until Draco goes off to school. After that... well, that's years away. If I didn't love him anymore, then I could separate myself from him more completely, until he grows cold to me as well." She took a deep breath, then continued more softly. "I do think he loves me, though. I don't understand why he would do this. I simply can't bring myself to ask... I can't bear it if the answer is because there is something in me that is lacking... I wouldn't be able to live with myself if this is somehow my fault," she finished quietly.

"Men are beasts. Perhaps he does blame you, but it's undoubtedly by sick logic, Cissy. Come, we get off here."

With a sick feeling in her stomach, Narcissa followed. They entered the same office as before, and the same pretty Roseanne Clarence sat at a desk outside of Lucius private room. The brunette couldn't quite hide a flash of recognition as the two women arrived, but she asked coolly, "May I help you?"

"Yes. We're here to see Mr. Malfoy."

"I'm afraid that will be quite impossible," Roseanne drawled in a bored voice, glancing at her watch.

"Oh, I don't think it will be," Narcissa countered in a saccharine tone. "You could please let him know that his wife is here."

"I can't do that, Mrs. Malfoy," she sneered. The disrespect in her voice was highly unsettling... perhaps the confidence of a woman that had been with her husband?"

"Very well. Then I shall." She started for the door.

"You can't go in there!" the secretary told them shrilly, panicked. She rose as if to block their entrance. "Mr. Malfoy is quite busy and he-"

"Will take the time to see his wife," Narcissa cut in coolly. However, when she reached for the handle, this time it was Lysandra who halted her.

"You're sure this is what you want, Cissy? Whatever's behind this door... you can't un-see it." As she spoke, her eyes flicked to some point behind Narcissa's head, perhaps in the direction of the clock on the far wall? Before Narcissa could reply indignantly, Lysandra drew her hand away. "Yes, go on then."

Narcissa drew the door open silently, but the sight that met her eyes was enough to make her want to cry out in rage, despite her preparation. The woman with her arms around Lucius was entirely unfamiliar. Since Lucius was quite engaged in kissing her throat, she could clearly see the exotic features of the woman, her long dark hair, and eyes closed in bliss. But she only saw the scene for a moment before Lysandra was pulling her back, and shutting the door. Roseanne was talking very loudly and quickly, but the words seemed to run together, and even Lysandra's soothing voice was lost in the buzzing that filled her ears. Without a word, Narcissa swept from the office.

* * *

Narcissa tensed as she heard the front door open, and concentrated on her plate. Lucius's footsteps headed directly for the dining room, but she did not acknowledge his arrival.

"Hello, beautiful," he murmured warmly, approaching the spot where she sat. "You've started eating already? That's alright, I suppose I am a bit late, I wanted to pick up these."

He rested a large bouquet of flowers on the table next to her, and leaned in to peck her cheek. Narcissa didn't push him away, though she longed too; she wanted to scream at him, throw her plate at his lying, unfaithful face, tell him to leave and go live with his whore instead. But she didn't. A lady didn't do such things. However, she also refused to react to the kiss. She stared straight ahead, fork and knife in hand, and concentrated on breathing until he drew back uncertainly.

"Narcissa?"

"Yes?" she replied coolly. She didn't look up, but she was certain she could hear the bewilderment in his silence.

Lucius couldn't speak. He couldn't understand, couldn't comprehend, her frosty behavior. Last night, less than twenty four hours ago, she'd fallen into his arms and told him she loved him. _And now?_ he wondered desperately. She wouldn't look at him. Why wouldn't she look at him?

"Is something wrong?" he asked carefully, above the ringing in his ears. She merely shook her head, though her lips were pressed tightly and her shoulders were stiff. "Narcissa, please," he whispered, reaching out to touch her, needing her reassurance.

"_Don't._" The word was low and dangerous, and slid though her teeth before he made contact with her arm. With it, something inside of Lucius snapped.

"Excuse me?" he hissed, fighting and failing to keep the simmering rage from his voice. His anger, however, did not stir his frigid wife.

"I said don't," she repeated clearly, calmly. "Don't touch me. Sit down and the elves will serve you."

"Are you fucking _serious?_" he roared, slamming his hand down on the ebony table, causing the delicate dishes and crystal goblets to clatter. Draco began to cry.

"Now look what you've done," Narcissa sighed irritably, making to rise from her seat to comfort their son.

"_Do not move,_" Lucius snarled dangerously. For the first time, she hesitated, though she still refused to meet his eye.

"For Merlin's sake Lucius, you're upsetting the baby-"

"You listen to me," he snarled, leaning in close, sliding the hand already on the gleaming wooden surface nearer to Narcissa, and gripping the back of her chair with the other, yanking the seat around to an angle that effectively trapped her. She became immobile once more, staring at an indistinct point somewhere on the wall beneath his arm.

"We are going to stay here until you tell me exactly what the hell is going on," he told her quietly over Draco's increasingly vocal wails.

"Nothing is going on. Step back."

"I will do not such thing. Last night you undress and get into bed and demand that I profess my love and devotion to you, and today you act as though nothing happened? As though you hate me? Resent me?"

"You're behavior is reprehensible, Draco is-"

"Answer me, Narcissa."

Draco, used to immediate attention, was quickly becoming distraught; his cries were morphing into shrieks. Narcissa's heart was beginning to beat more quickly, though she skillfully masked her nervousness. It was just Lucius, after all. Lucius wouldn't hurt her, wouldn't dare. Although, such knowledge was implicit in his unwavering love for her, a love that she couldn't help but to doubt now. Still, she remained stiff and silent.

"Do you?" he pressed. "Is this some sort of... of elaborate scheme to slowly drive me mad? Did you ever love me, Narcissa, or care for me at all? Try for the truth, this time." When she didn't respond, he commanded in a low growl, "Look at me."

Slowly, painfully, she turned her face up to his. "Yes, Lucius. I did love you." Her eye shone with tears, but she would be damned if she left them fall before him.

The finality of her statement struck him like a blow. _Did. Did love. Past tense._ "And..." he was fumbling now, drawing back slightly as if from impact. "And then... last night?"

"Last night I was drunk, Lucius. Which you should have know. Perhaps I should not fault you, I was careless to let myself fall into such a state, but it was... it was _vile _of you to take advantage of me in such a moment. I have lucidly made my wishes known to you, and for you to... when I was in such a mind... I clearly couldn't coherently consent..."

At last, Lucius staggered back, as she'd hoped he would. Narcissa swept to her feet and hurried over to her son, scooping him into her arms and rushing from the room. Lucius collapsed into the seat he'd refused to take earlier, reeling. Unbidden, her words echoed in his head, and other words, ones he'd hoped to forget, from a time in their marriage he'd hoped to forget had ever happened. He felt physically sickened as he replayed the events of the previous night in his mind. Had he been blinded by his own desires, had her projected motives upon her that weren't actually there? No, he did not think so, but then, he'd known that she was drunk.

So consumed by the turmoil in his mind, he did not hear the owl tapping impatiently at his window. However, Dobby, watching his master's shock and grief nervously from the corner of the room, did. Hoping to be of some assistance in the matter, he let the bird in, and it fluttered over to where Lucius sat. He stared blankly at the creature, as though unsure of what it might be, but at long last he took the parchment it offered. His eyes moved once over the short note, then again to ascertain the meaning. It was not regarding a matter he wished to deal with at the moment, but the other option was to sit alone with his thoughts.

"Dobby, cloak," he snapped brusquely, tossing the parchment down and rubbing his face vigorously.

Sometime after he'd Disapparated, Narcissa returned to the dining room to find the following brief letter lying creased on the table:

_Lucius,_

_It's been a long, long time. I haven't asked you for much, and I wouldn't ask you now if it wasn't an emergency. But I must see you. It can't wait any longer._

_Chelsea_

* * *

_(_A/N: If I told you'd I'd been really busy for the past year and three months... would you believe me? It's true :( But your reviews and PM's were so sweet, and so encouraging, that I knew I wasn't going to give up on this. And I haven't. I can't say that this was worth the wait... I can't imagine anything short of the 8th Harry Potter book would be would THAT long of a wait, but hope you enjoyed the chapter anyway, and can accept my humble apologies. )


	39. Chapter 39

"Ca'I 'elp you?"

Lucius stared wordlessly at the tiny creature before him. He tried and failed to accurately calculate her age—three, perhaps? She cocked her head to the side and stared up at him curiously. A brave little girl, dressed quite peculiarly. Upon a mop of glossy brown curls was tangled a cheap little tiara. She wore a garish pink tutu, and the layered tulle that composed the skirt was bedraggled in spots, stained in others. She wore what must be her mother's shoes, shockingly pink heels that were many sizes too large for her tiny feet, and clutched an unmistakably real wand in her little hand. Lucius dropped to one knee in an attempt to approach her level.

"Hello," he murmured softly. "My name is Lucius." He extended his hand formally.

She beamed at him, and stuck her right fist, the one that still grasped the wand, into his palm so they could shake. "Lucy," she cooed proudly. Lucius flinched.

"Lucille! Lucy where are you?" a harried voice called from within. "You took Mummy's wand _again…_ Baby, where are you?"

"Mummy!" Lucy spun on the spot and bounded towards her mother's voice, surprisingly quick in the oversized shoes. "Mummy! Vis'ter!"

"Visitor?" she echoed. "Baby, I know I've told you not to answer the door when—oh." Chelsea, the owner of the voice, came into view at last. She was wrapped in a towel, and her long hair hung dripping down her back. Lucy had climbed into her mother's arms and was not sucking her thumb shyly. "I wasn't expecting you to come so quickly. Or at all."

"You said it was an emergency."

"Lucy, baby, go play, alright? Take Mummy's shoes off." The child obeyed, and skipped from the hall singing brightly. "Come this way, I need to dress."

She led them into her bedroom and closed the door. "You can have a seat," she gestured to the unmade bed.

"I'll stand," Lucius countered coolly. "The girl seems to be in perfectly good health. Why did you tell me to come?"

Chelsea took her time in answering. She faced away from him and let her towel fall coyly as she reached for a robe. "Lucy is a darling little girl. So imaginative, so sweet. And did you notice her eyes? They're just like-"

"I saw them," Lucius cut in sharply.

"Well, forgive me," Chelsea huffed, "for thinking that you weren't so heartless that you might like to hear a bit about your _daughter._" She hurled the word at him like a slap. He didn't blink.

"You said there was an emergency, Chelsea. I am not so heartless that I would allow a child to suffer should there be such a risk, and yet you refuse to tell me why you summoned me."

"It's not easy, Lucius," she murmured, waving her wand about her head, so that her hair dried and sprang into the same heavy, gleaming curls that her daughter possessed. "Raising her all by myself."

"I certainly hope that you do not believe enough time has passed that I might pity you? That I've forgotten the means by which you brought that child upon yourself?"

Chelsea exhaled sharply, casting a miserable glance out the window and wrapping her arms more securely around herself. She didn't reply.

"If it's money you want, it's yours. Next time just owl with the amount and I'll have it sent directly."

"Well, money would help. But Lucius... If you just knew her, you'd adore her like I do. Would it really be so difficult to... oh, I don't know, come round twice a week for dinner? Come to her birthday parties, stop by at Christmas? She has no sort of father figure at all-"

"Well why don't you just bewitch one for her?" Lucius sneered. "How much do you want?"

"Oh, I didn't want you to come just to talk about-"

"A thousand? Five thousand? Give me a number and I'll be on my way."

"Why?" she demanded. "Why are you in such a rush?"

"I have a family to attend to."

"Oh, sure," she replied sarcastically. "A wife to love you and miss you, is that it?"

"Yes. I'll have twenty five hundred sent to your account. Good bye." Lucius turned to leave, and before she could stop herself, Chelsea blurted, "Well, that's not what I hear!"

Lucius froze, hand tensed on the knob of the door. "Excuse me?"

"Stuff gets around, you know," she sniffed haughtily. Lucius's head snapped to the side, eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Such as?"

"Oh... you know," she balked. "Nothing specific, just a rumour that things aren't necessarily the brightest in the Malfoy household right now."

"Who told you that?" His tone was ice.

"No one- gossip, is all! I was just thinking, if things aren't so great with you, what might it hurt to spend a bit of time with your only daughter, and of course I care about you..."

"You don't know a fucking thing about me," he growled, whirling to face her and stalking towards her. She drew back, eyes wide with fright. "Who told you that?"

"I-I can't remember! A friend, maybe?" She was against the wall now, and he could tell by her darting gaze that her plan had gone terribly wrong. "I honestly don't know-"

"Liar," he breathed, placing one hand against the cheap plaster wall on either side of her head. "Tell me. This can be very easy, Chelsea. Or it can be difficult. I hope for your sake, and the sake of the girl right outside this door that would be able to hear your screams, that you will choose to make it easy."

"You won't hurt me," she bluffed, though she was shaking with fear.

"You've bewitched her, haven't you?" he hissed. "My wife."

"Of course not," she spat. "I've never even met her. She's acting on her own free will."

In a flash, Lucius seized a handful of that thick, glossy hair and yanked sharply, causing Chelsea to cry out in pain and drop to her knees. Immediately, the sweet little voice that had been singing happily for the duration of the conversation ceased.

"Mama?" came Lucy's tentative appeal.

"Tell her you're fine," Lucius commanded in a low, dangerous voice, his wand drawn and pressed to her temple and hand still fisted in her hair.

"I- I'm fine, baby, everything's okay," she called, words quavering. There was a pattering of little feet, but Lucius was too quick. He pointed his wand at the door and whispered _"Colloportus"_ a moment before the knob began to rattle.

"Mama," she asked again, now directly outside the door.

"Just give me a name," Lucius continued in the same soft, deadly tone.

"I told you, I just-" her words were cut off by a yelp and moan as he jerked her head sharply, slamming it against the wall.

"Mama!" Lucy cried, worried now, tapping the door urgently.

"It would be a shame for her if anything happened to you, wouldn't it? Although, you insisted putting my name on the birth certificate... that would make her mine, wouldn't it?"

"My cousin!" Chelsea gasped, the tears that had been pooling in her eyes spilling over at last. "My cousin told me!"

"Mummy..."

"And your cousin's name?"

"Mummy!"

"Lysandra!" she cried. "Lysandra Lestrange!"

* * *

Narcissa placed the letter down on the table, frowning. Why would Chelsea be so desperate to see Lucius? It sounded like they'd been out of contact, which should have been a relief, but what could she want with him now? Still clutching the letter, she walked purposefully to her study, and headed for the fire place. _I'll just floo Lysandra, tell her how tonight went and ask her what she thinks,_ she decided, kneeling at the hearth. She had spent the last several hours moving all of her possessions back into the rooms she'd occupied when she first came to Malfoy Manor. Undoubtedly, Lysandra would approve of this action. When the view of the familiar living room that Lysandra and Rabastan shared came into view, she called out a greeting. Rabastan appeared quickly.

"Hey, Cissy," he smiled in a tired sort of way. "Long time no see."

"I've missed you," she told him, because it was true. She hadn't realized how much until she saw his warm, familiar face, but she had been spending nearly all her free time with his wife lately. "How've you been?"

"Alright," he replied, sitting down on the floor before her. "Rod's been..." he broke off mid-sentence, suddenly looking uncomfortable."Well, never mind that. I suppose you're calling for Lyssa?"

"Yes, is she in?"

"'Fraid not. She went out for dinner with her cousin, then said she had to pick up a few things... surprised she's not back yet, actually."

"Does she have family visiting from out of town?"

"Nah, Chels lives pretty close, they spend a lot of time together. Surprised you haven't met her, or heard about her at least."

"Me too. What was her name?"

"Chelsea. Sweet girl, really. She's not married, but has this beautiful little girl, Lucy."

For a moment, Narcissa couldn't speak. But then, Chelsea was a popular name, wasn't it? And there must be plenty with out-of-wedlock children. And naming the girl Lucy... well, that was too obvious, too incredible...

"Maybe I've seen her about. What does she look like?"

"Chelsea? Oh, not so tall, pale, lots of brown curly hair and big brown eyes; pretty. Little Lucy looks a lot like her, but she has these unbelievable grey eyes, everyone always comments on them. Smartest kid I've ever met, and she can only be about three or so..."

Narcissa's hands felt icy. "Rabastan," she whispered, trying to remain calm. "Who's Lucy's father?"

Rabastan shrugged. "Dunno. Neither of them has ever mentioned one, he's not in the picture."

"Right. Er... I have to go, I think I hear Draco... Tell Lys I flooed, alright?"

"Sure thing, Cissy. Have a good night."

Narcissa stumbled back, shaking. They had to be the same girl. Lysandra had to know that Lucius was the father of her cousin's baby. But all the evidence? Not just the late nights, the perfume and the lipstick smears, those she could chalk up to a sloppy secretary, but the memory in the pensieve? The visit to the office today? Those things she had witnessed firsthand; there was no way those were fabrications... was there? She wracked her brain, trying and failing to find any way those sights could have been falsified. She could clearly remember them, so a Confundus charm couldn't have been used... that would have left the moments little more than blurry suggestions.

Her thoughts were interrupted by an urgent pounding on the door. Distracted, she went to go see who the visitor might be, and hardly paying attention, she opened the front door to find Rodtimer Yaxley staring back at her.

"Oh!" she was so startled her train of thought came crashing to a halt. "Mort, what a surpri-"

"Narcissa." His voice was rough, desperate. "I have to talk to you."

"Oh. Well, come in, I suppose?"

He shook his head. "Not here, please. I don't..." he glanced around furtively. "Not in his home, you know?"

"This is my home too, Rodtimer," she reminded him softly. He gave an odd shrug.

"Please. Somewhere else."

"Well, Lucius is out and I... well, I quite wanted to talk to him about something... can't we stay here?"

He was already shaking his head. "I'm begging you, Cissy," he whispered.

"Er... alright then, I suppose." The desperation in his voice was making her nervous. "I have to go get Draco though."

"Yes, alright, bring him," he conceded. "Only... please hurry."

She nodded and swept out of the entry hall up towards the nursery. Draco was sound asleep, but roused when she lifted him and started to whine. "Darling, hush," she pleaded, but his little whimpers were morphing into actual cries. She stroked his cheek to attempt to sooth him, and then moved to lift his favorite blanket. However, in the process, one of the delicate platinum prongs that held the diamond of her engagement ring became ensnared on the collar of Draco's sleeping gown, and when she gave it a little tug to free herself, her hand slipped, leaving a shallow gash on Draco's plump cheek. His cries turned to screams.

"Oh! Oh no, baby, I'm so, so sorry..." She snatched up his blanket and hurried to her own room, tugging off her rings in remorse and dropping them on the bed before taking her wailing son into the bathroom to dab dittany on the scratch. "There, all better?"

He seemed content, and she headed back downstairs. Mort was still in the foyer, hands jammed in his pockets as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Can we-"

"Just a moment more." She rushed into Lucius's study, and reached into his desk to find some scrap parchment. None seemed to be available, so she grabbed the bottom-most document without reading it, and turned it over to write on the back. He could scourgify it if need be, but it was probably junk anyway. But after digging about for several more minutes, Narcissa could not find a quill. "Dobby!" she cried, frustrated. The elf appeared. "I need a quill to let Master know I'm headed out."

He brought her one immediately and she began to jot a quick note apologizing for being out late but that she needed desperately to talk to him when she came home. However, she'd only manage to scribble _Lucius, I'm sorry_ before Rodtimer was at her elbow.

"Narcissa... I came because I couldn't wait a second longer. Please, please let's go."

"Oh, yes, alright!" she sighed, harried. Draco had begun to cry again. "Let's go."

* * *

The Manor was dark when Lucius returned home. Not that he'd expected any less. But his heart was hammering with anticipation, though his mouth was dry. She had to listen to him now. At long last, he knew why she had grown cold to him. And finally, he could tell her with certainty that she had been fooled, that she had been taken in by a plot designed to bring him misery. He would tell her what he knew, and the Lysandra would tell her the rest- willingly or by force, he didn't care. He would have his life back. He could not think yet of Narcissa's own duplicity, but that hurt would come later... once he felt secure once again. He headed directly for his study and, knowing it was a poor decision but unable to help himself, poured a glass of scotch. Then, he settled down behind his desk to gather his thoughts before waking his wife. However, as soon as he sat, he noticed something was awry. It looked as though someone had been shuffling through his parchments, and one drawer was open. He sat up, and saw that a large document was lying face-down on his desk. There were only three words written on the back, clearly in Narcissa's hand.

_Lucius, I'm sorry._

He stared at them for a full minute before slowly turning the sheet over. He found himself staring at the contract for divorce that he'd had written up some time ago, back before he'd known her, back before she had loved him.

Suddenly, Lucius felt the air sucked from his lungs. He was on his feet in an instant, sprinting up to their bedroom. It couldn't mean what he thought it did. He was mistaken. He flung open the door, and was faced with silent darkness.

"Narcissa," he called roughly, though he already knew, as he lifted his wand to illuminate the room, that she would not be there. However, the beam of light did catch a glitter upon the sheets. He approached cautiously, and found himself staring down at her wedding and engagement rings. A quick turn of his head told him the room was void of her belongings. "Please," he whispered to no one in particular. "Please, no." A throbbing was beginning in his temples. There was a strange rushing sound in his ears.

"Dobby!" he called sharply. The creature materialized.

"Master?"

"Where is she." His tone was flat.

"A man was coming here, he is saying he needs to talk with her, she is needing to come with him... she is going."

"What did he look like."

"He is being tall, with dark hair and blue eyes. She is calling him 'Mort'."

With a jerk, Lucius tore himself away from the empty room and hurried down the hall.

The nursery wasn't completely empty. However, when he approached the crib, Draco was not there, nor was the blanket from which he was inseparable.

Lucius stumbled back, dropping to his knees. They were gone.


	40. Chapter 40

"Tell me why I'm here, Rodtimer."

"Let me tell you a story."

Narcissa swallowed her impatience, and leaned over to check that Draco was indeed sleeping. "I don't... stories? You said it was urgent."

"It is. And it's a story you know, Cissy. One that I think you've forgotten, but one that I hope... hope isn't lost."

"Yes... alright, then, go on."

"Once upon a time... It was an unseasonably warm September morning... I remember it was warm, because I saw you on the platform with your family. You wore... this neat little white blouse, short sleeved and button-down. Your hair was in two long, tidy braids and you had a plain grey pleated skirt that fell just to your skinny knees. You were the prissiest thing I'd ever seen in my life, especially standing next to your wild sister, with her hair in snarls, her shirt inappropriately unbuttoned. And Andromeda was there too, Bella's saccharine twin, she kept trying to hold your hand but you kept shaking her off. I just had this feeling in my gut, like something mattered in that moment, that I was on the brink of something huge-"

"Rodtimer, please. There's no point-"

"Let me talk, Cissy."

She fell silent, and he rubbed his jaw, watching her carefully. The gesture was a familiar one, it was one Narcissa identified with important, serious, conversations. Strange, that his hand could look just exactly the same as it always had, when nothing was the same anymore.

"I remember our first kiss like it was yesterday. It was right after my first Hogsmeade trip- remember? You put on a brave face, but I could tell you were so disappointed you couldn't go... so I went to Honeydukes and I bought caramel creams for you, and cockroach clusters as a gag gift for Rab, and in my excitement I had them wrap up the wrong one... when you opened it I was sure it was over, that you'd be so hurt that I'd gone when you couldn't and then made fun of you with some stupid present... and you laughed. You laughed and laughed and hugged me and I suddenly wasn't nervous, or embarassed or hesitant. I kissed you, and we were just kids but I didn't care that I'd never kissed anyone else, I knew I never wanted to."

His bright blue eyes were wide, intent. The soft lull of his voice brought Narcissa memories of a simpler, happier time. A time when resting her forehead against the curve of his neck could rejuvenate her; when the merest brush of his hand could excite her beyond belief or calm her down from the most thunderous of tempers in a heartbeat. She remembered the kiss too, just as vividly, how startled she'd been, how ecstatic the quick peck had made her. His hand, a little boy's hand back then, had been clutching hers, soft, warm, just a little damp, and he'd given her a blazing grin afterwards that was a silent promise of adoration.

"When Andromeda ran off with that Hufflepuff, you cried in my arms all night, and then you got up in the morning and never shed another tear about it. You were so brave, so strong, I was so proud of you and when I told you I loved you... I meant it more than anything. I loved you with everything, and I never stopped."

_Andromeda._ Her heart still contracted at the sound of her name. The sister that used to comb tangles out of her flaxen hair, tell her stories until she fell asleep, kiss her forehead goodnight when their mother neglected to. Gone in a single, world-shattering day, but not before she had watched her father strike Andromeda across the face, call her the most horrible things...

"When my brother died... you were my strength. I was only sixteen and you were fifteen but you stayed by my side, you bore my fury at the injustice of it all and my tears and I knew, despite everything... that you were the one I wanted to spend my life with. I'd teasingly asked you to marry me a dozen times... but suddenly I knew I wanted it to be real. Everything about you gave me joy. Your smile, holding your hand... being the one that got to kiss you good night... It was everything to me, Narcissa. You were everything."

Guilt lanced her at the memory of sweet Tristan, only eleven when he was lost to Vanishing sickness. He'd been the very opposite of Rodtimer in looks- the boy had inherited his mother's sandy hair and father's dark eyes- but he shared the same ineffable shine of his brother. He had been exuberant and clever, and despite the difference in age, the two had been very close. Narcissa did not want to relive the black months that had followed the boy's death; she couldn't bear to recalled the sickening pain, the sorrow and hours that Mort had spent laying in bed with her, tears streaming silently and endlessly, or his rages in which he hurled chairs and smashed things until his hands bled.

"And then one day... you were gone. You walked to Malfoy with your head held high, and no matter how many times I reminded myself that you were strong, that you loved me but you had no choice... the pain was still more than I could bear. I barely scraped enought N.E.W.T's to leave school, and then... there was nothing. I moved in with my mum and had no desire to leave, no desire for anything... I wanted to die. I was empty and drunk. I picked fights, I just wanted to die, all the time.

"And then Malfoy came and found me one night. To bring me to you. And I knew that you loved me, after all that time apart, but you made me promise to love someone else. And when have I ever been able to refuse you, Cissy? I realized then that you couldn't be happy when I wasn't. I was being... selfish. You had been hurt as badly as I, but you were wearing a brave face. You didn't hide in your room, give up on life... You're stronger than I am."

"I didn't have any other choice!" Narcissa broke in at last. "Look, Rodtimer, you have to stop, this is over."

For a long moment, he didn't reply. He stared at her, carefully, his blue eyes earnest but intent.

"Do you love me anymore, Cissy?"

"No." Her reply was too quick. Even she knew it.

"You promised me forever."

"You made me the same promise, but sometimes circumstances change. You know that. We've both grown."

"I'm here to collect on forever, Narcissa. I tried. I really did. I tried to convince myself that she was the one for me, that you were just my childhood infatuation. I told myself a lack of passion was just maturity. I kept telling myself that she was my future, but then suddenly I couldn't pretend anymore. She's a kind, sweet girl, but she isn't you, Narcissa... And she doesn't love me the way you did."

They fell silent once more.

"Do you love Malfoy, then? I should have known. He always had everything, didn't he? Why shouldn't you love him as every other girl did-"

"It isn't like that! You don't understand, Mort, he's not as you always thought. He's..."

"He's what? Kind? Don't try to fool yourself Narcissa, the things I've seen that man do would make you sick."

"He's..." she wanted to say 'good to me, at least,' but, lame an answer as it was, she wasn't sure if she believed even that.

"Kiss me, Narcissa."

Her eyes flew to his face. "I can't," she blurted.

"No?" he rose slowly from his seat and took her hands gently. "If you really don't love me, then it will mean nothing to you, and it will mean the whole world to me. For everything that we had, all that we shared, everything we were... If you really love him and not me, then he should understand this as an act of pity on your part. I'm only asking for one last kiss. I'm not asking for anything else... though I will never stop regretting that we didn't share what we should have... Narcissa, we both know you never should have married him, we'd be so happy... that should be my child, our _child, _conceived with love and gentleness-"

"Rodtimer, stop," she whispered, rising as well. "What you're feeling now... I don't feel it any more. I'm sorry. I'm not the same girl you used to know."

"I can see that," he murmured, gently tugging her closer. "The girl I knew was innocent. She smiled. She didn't have pain and grief emanating from her. Come away with me," he whispered hoarsely. "We can disappear. I can love you as completely, as tenderly as I always have, I can take the hurt away. What should we care for the rest of the world? What other world is there when we have each other?"

He leaned in close, his forehead resting against hers.

"Mort," she sighed. Anguished? Wistful? Exhausted? He wasn't sure.

"I love you," he whispered, and when his lips met hers, she didn't resist.


	41. Chapter 41

Narcissa stood patiently, letting him kiss her, letting his hands slide over her back, bringing her close, crushing her body to his. Then, gently, she placed a hand on his chest.

"Alright Mort. Enough."

"Please, Cissy, I-"

"You are going to go home and make things work with Jennifer. And if you don't love her, then someone else. I used to think there was one person for everyone, Mort. I thought it was you, and I won't deny that. But it's just not true. Lucius is my husband, and finally that means something to me... and I'm not going to give up on it. You asked for one kiss, Rodtimer. I gave you that for the reasons you said- because we do share a past, because once, you were my whole world. But now Draco and Lucius are my world. And no matter what happens, I won't lose that. Nothing on earth could make me give that up. I'm sorry, Mort. Well... no, I'm not. I won't even apologize for that. I do wish you weren't hurting, I still care about you, but I won't apologize for not abandoning everything I love to make you happy. So, goodbye Mort. I wish it didn't have to be this way. I wish you loved her. But even if you don't... you can't give up. You have to let go of me and the idea of me and any inkling of a possibility of regaining what we used to have."

As she spoke, she lifted Draco, who was still soundly sleeping.

"I love Lucius, and I always will," she stated with simple clarity. "Because he is my husband, the father of my child, my life now. And he loves me." As the words left her lips, she easily recognized them to be true. "Now, I'm going to go home, and he and I are going to have a conversation that's long overdue."

She didn't like seeing the pain in Rodtimer's eyes, but that she could bear it was the final proof that she was making the right decision.

* * *

The first thing Narcissa heard when she entered the Manor was screaming. For a moment her heart stopped, and she was sure that Lucius was hurt, that something terrible had happened- but almost immediately, she realized it could not be her husband. It was a woman.

The sound was enough to rouse and alarm Draco, and he began to cry as well. Narcissa attempted to comfort him, but her own panic made her of little use as she raced to find the source of the noise. It was close- Lucius's study. She flung the door open, and for a long moment, could not comprehend the scene before her.

Sprawled on the stone hearth, lip bleeding and clearly hysterical, was Lysandra. Her wrists were bound and she was crying, her usually-perfect hair in wild disarray. As Narcissa watched, she tensed and screamed again, twisting, her back arching... near her feet were the shards of a glass decanter that Narcissa was certain had been entirely full of cognac, only a day or so ago... which must mean...

"_Lucius_!" Narcissa screamed, half in terror, and half to make herself heard over the shrieking woman and crying infant in her arms. He was standing so that Narcissa could see only his profile, eerily lit by the firelight. With one hand he held his wand, leisurely twisting and prodding the air in Lysandra's direction, drawing forth a symphony of torment. The other loosely held a half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey. His eyes were strangely blank. At the sound of her voice, his head turned slowly in her direction. He stared as though he did not actually see her, and as he stared, he took a long pull from the bottle.

"Oh, Narcissa, oh thank Merlin, please-"

"Silence!" Lucius barked, sending what appeared to be a bolt of electricity at Lysandra.

"Lucius, stop!" she cried. "What are you doing?"

"Narcissa..." He blinked several times, as though he couldn't quite believe his eyes. He looked down at the bottle, as though wondering whether or not it might be causing hallucinations.

"Lucius, let her _go!_ What are you _doing_?"

"Tell her!" he snarled at Lysandra. "Tell her why you are here."

"He kidnapped me, Cissy! He showed up at my flat and dragged me here and-"

"No!" Lucius flicked his wand again, and Lysandra cried out. "Tell her what you to me. Tell her what you _did_."

"I didn't-"

_"Crucio." _

She screamed again, and Draco's wails fought to match the volume. "Lucius, no, stop!" Narcissa was torn between shielding her son and saving her friend. Draco was thrashing and wailing, attempting to escape from the horrible scene and sounds.

Lucius lowered his wand slowly, looking frustrated and confused. "Narcissa," he sighed, turning swiftly crossing the room towards her.

"No." She whipped out her wand, gaze ominous. "Stay back."

He looked positively crushed. His hands were outstretched, she realized, hoping to embrace her and Draco. Then, his eyes hardened.

"_Your. Fault,_" he hissed at Lysandra, punctuating each word with a jab of his wand, and eliciting yelps.

"Stop!" Narcissa cried, trying to think over Draco's earsplitting wails. She needed to take him away from this dark, twisted situation, but she couldn't leave him alone in the house, and she couldn't abandon Lysandra either, if only there was some way... or some _one_...

"Dobby!" she snapped, and the elf appeared. "Go get Severus. Now!"

The creature vanished before Lucius fully comprehended her words. However, he had scarcely opened his mouth to respond when the fire in the hearth blazed green, and Severus stumbled in, led by the hysterical elf. His wand was already drawn, and he very nearly fell over Lysandra's prone body.

"What the _fuck_ is going on here?" he bellowed, sweeping the whimpering elf aside and silencing the moaning Lysandra with a single gesture. "What 'emergency' can possibly..." he broke off, staring at the woman at his feet. "Is that Rabastan's wife?" His chin jerked up, and he stared accusingly at Lucius. "What have you-"

"Severus!" Narcissa cried, rushing forward. "Take Draco. Please. I'll explain it all later, I swear."

"No!" Severus backed away, shaking his head. "No, I will not-"

"This is serious, Severus!" She didn't wait for his agreement; she pushed Draco into his arms. "I'll come for him as soon as I can and _don't-_" her tone became icy. "_Don't _give him to this drunken monster."

"Narcissa," Lucius's tone was both pleading and frustrated. "You have to listen." He flicked his wand, lifting the Silencing charm from Lysandra.

"Severus help!" she screamed immediately, causing Draco's cries, which had begun to subside in Snape's arms, to redouble in volume. "Please-"

"Oh, shut _up_! _Crucio_!"

Severus, alarmed, quickly cast a shielding charm which threw Lucius off balance, causing his curse to shatter a window pane. He seemed at last to decide that this was no place for a child and, assuring himself the Lucius would never harm his wife, decided to let them solve their own problems.

The immediate void that followed Severus's departure was unnerving. Lysandra's high, hysterical panting finally brought Narcissa back to the present.

"Lucius, let her go!" She dropped to her knees by her friend, but Lucius immediately grasped her arm and pulled her back, crushing her to his chest while still keeping his wand trained on Lysandra.

"Narcissa," he murmured, burying his face in her hair. "Narcissa."

For a moment, it felt so, criminally good to be tucked against him, her face pressed to his chest, inhaling his scent and feeling the strength of his arm around her. Then, she was scrambling to get away, fighting to untangle the situation.

"You'd better explain what's going on this instant," she breathed, eyes darting between the two.

"You thought I was fucking other women." He hurled the accusation at her as an insult, and Narcissa's eyes widened. "_This_ disgusting excuse for a witch was never your friend. From the moment she learned you were my wife, she set out to destroy both of us- although until earlier this evening, I could never have suspected why. By befriending you, you gave her everything she needed. In particular, that you can never have any more children. Her desperate, insane cousin Chelsea sent me an owl today, convinced that I would fall in love with our daughter, knowing that you could never have one... So _she _made you think that I was sleeping with other women."

"Lucius, it wasn't just a mere suggestion that I believed; I saw with my own eyes-"

"Which is why _she_'s going to tell you the truth, or I'm going to peel the skin off of her hands and-"

"Stop!" Narcissa yelled. "For Merlin's sake, Lucius, with the torture threats."

He shrugged, unfazed. "You missed all the excitement earlier, trying to get her to tell me the full story. And now, she had better tell it again."

His eyes were dark, and he turned to Lysandra at last. "Start at the beginning." He stalked forward and seized her by the wrists with one hand, and heaved her into a sitting position.

Lysandra turned her anguished, exhausted gaze to Lucius's face. "You go to hell."

A slow, eerie smile crept across Lucius's face. He knelt down before her. "Now, now, Lyssa. You don't want to go through this again."

"You sick fuck," she hissed, and spat in his face. Without a change in expression, Lucius wiped it away, and, though Narcissa could not detect further motion on Lucius's part, Lysandra began screaming again. Lucius remained crouching, perfectly still, before her, and the look in his eyes terrified Narcissa.

"Alright!" Lysandra gasped. "Stop, stop!"

Lucius stood, and she collapsed, shuddering. "Chelsea is my cousin, but she's more like a sister. And little Lucy... she needs a father, and I just wanted to..."

"No," Lucius corrected quietly. "This is not about your twisted, pathetic motives. Tell her what you _did_."

"I lied!" she cried. "I knew Malfoy was Lucy's father, Chelsea told me he was married, and when Rabastan introduced us, when I found out _you_ were the reason she was alone... I knew I had to do what I could to break the two of you up. Rabastan explained about you and Mort, that you'd hated Malfoy when you got married... Why should you have him, and not Chelsea? Why should you get the bloody Manor and diamond when Chelsea had his daughter?"

Narcissa sat down, numb. "But... We spent every day together. You showed me..."

"I needed to gain your trust," Lysandra continued after a sharp look from Lucius. "And besides, it took Chelsea a while to convincingly change her memory. You didn't know what the inside of her flat looked like... so all she had to was keep her face turned away or blocked, and-"

"Her hair," Narcissa whispered. She remembered the shining, golden locks.

"She just falsified the recollection to blonde. With that, I gave you the first piece of evidence. And then Bertha Hopkirk died, and Chelsea persuaded her friend to apply for the position of secretary... once she was hired, it was easy to plant evidence. Your husband would leave his robe on the cloak stand in her outer office, and she'd spray her perfume on it... leave a hair or two on it... even rub lipstick on the inside of the sleeves so it would get on his wrists and look like he'd wiped it off."

Narcissa was shaking. It was too impossible, no one could possibly have gone through all that merely to convince her that Lucius was unfaithful. "But Lysandra... I saw with my own eyes... in his office."

She gave a hollow, bitter laugh. "Yes, that was our best stunt. The careful timing, the Polyjuice potion... It was easy to steal one of your hairs... all the time we spent together... and you remember Lettie? Laetitia Avery? Her little sister took the potion, she's a brilliant witch, and we had to time it precisely, she looked like you when she went into his office, but the moment it wore off was when you needed to see her... that's why I had to make sure you were only in there for a moment, so you'd be gone by the time Lucius realized he wasn't with his darling wife... in that split second of confusion, before he could act, Lettie's sister modified his memory and left..."

She exhaled heavily, hanging her head.

"And tonight? Rodtimer? I suppose that was part of your scheme too?"

Lysandra looked up, confused. "What do you mean? Jen's a sweet girl. We talked about it, but we decided from the beginning not to bring him into this."

Narcissa pressed her lips together and didn't reply. She wasn't sure whether or not she was relieved to hear this news.

"Get out of here," she said at last, raising her head to meet Lysandra's gaze. "I never want to see you again."

"I'd _gladly_ leave, if your monster of a husband weren't holding me here," she snapped. Lucius's eyes narrowed.

"Still feeling belligerent, are we?"

"You heard her, Malfoy. Let me go," Lysandra spat, glaring despite the fact the one eye was now swollen shut. "And you won't deny your spoiled little wife anything, will you? A real man would've had more than pathetic questions and pleas for a frigid bitch like Cissy," she hissed the pet name mockingly. "And all you could do was-"

"_Crucio!_" This time, Narcissa did not immediately tell him to stop- her own rage was beginning to simmer under the calm she was struggling to maintain. She laid her hand over Lucius's, not wanting to fight to be heard over Lysandra's screams.

"So you thought that you would humiliate us both?" she demanded. "Ruin our lives? You were my best friend!"

"You need to trust your instincts and choose your friends a bit better." Lysandra managed a scathing chuckle, though she winced. "We wouldn't have been friends. How could I be friends with a woman Rabastan gushed about so much? His 'best friend Cissy'... dear Merlin, I hated you before I even met you. And then finding out you were the reason for Chelsea's misery-"

"No one is the reason for her misery except her own twisted self! She told you, I'm sure, that she had to use a love potion to even get Lucius to touch her? She's obsessive and disgusting, and it's her own fault no man will have her. I should have told Rabby exactly what I thought about you the first time we met-"

"As if it would have mattered! He could never get another girl as good me. He used to be a fat, sniveling mess and you know what? He still is on the inside. He'd do anything if he thought he might lose me."

"You're supposed to love him!"

"Like you and Lucius love each other? See how well _that's_ turned out. You became a passive aggressive nightmare at the slightest suggestion, and love has turned the great Lucius Malfoy into nothing more than a drunken idiot."

Narcissa wanted to lunge, but as before Lucius reacted first, and now Narcissa had no desire at all to make him lower his wand. There was a strange, unearthly look in Lucius's eyes, and somehow, Narcissa knew that Lysandra must leave that instant, or they would be hiding a body.

"Get her out of here. Should you Obliviate her?"

"She won't talk," Lucius hissed through gritted teeth, clearly unwilling to cease causing her pain. "No one would ever guess what had happened to her, if she were to disappear..."

"That's not true," Narcissa sighed logically. "Chelsea would undoubtedly suspect us, as well as her dreadful friends... Rabby would look for her, too, though I don't think his search would start here."

Though Narcissa would not have believed it possible, his grip on his wand tightened. She carefully rested her fingers on the white, strained knuckles.

"It's done. Let her leave, and we never have to see her again."

At last, Lucius's arm dropped. The rope fell away from Lysandra's wrists, and she struggled to her feet. She did not wait for any parting remarks; having been offered escape, she seized a handful of floo powder and vanished.

The silence she left in her wake was far more deafening than her screams. Lucius was breathing heavily and his eyes were glazed over as he stared blankly into the green flames that began to warm into their natural radiant hues. Narcissa watched him uncertainly. She longed to fly into his arms and never let go of him, or collapse at his feet and beg for forgiveness- but she couldn't move. Part of it was fear and part shock, but as she waited restlessly, she began to worry that he might not move for the rest of the night.

"I suppose..." she began haltingly. She meant to say that she supposed she should go fetch Draco, but Lucius cut her off.

"That it's over? Yes, I suppose it is."

A knot of panicked anxiety began to form in the pit of her stomach. His words may have meant that their ordeal had finally ceased, but the solemn, dead tone he spoke them in hinted otherwise.

"I won't bother dragging up broken promises to hurl as accusations. Let us behave as civilized adults and take care of affairs as neatly as possible. I'm done with being generous. I want Draco. Money is nothing, but he is mine."

"No." She intended to scream the word, but could scarcely force any sound through her constricted throat. "I'm not going anywhere. Neither is he. Nor you."

"The days of you destroying my life are over, Narcissa _Black._"

"Stop this, Lucius. I made a mistake, but I won't again. I lo-"

"_Don't!_" he roared, his head snapping to meet her eyes at last. "Don't you dare say it. You've lied so many times; I don't want to hear this last one."

"It isn't a lie!" she cried. "I always have! I thought, that if I confronted you, that you'd leave me; I thought-"

"Listen to yourself! You're not even making sense."

"I..." It had made sense at the time. Lysandra had made it make sense. But now she couldn't find the words. How could she have been so foolish? Of course Lucius would never be unfaithful to her. Of course she should have confronted him from the first moment of suspicion.

"I'm sorry," she breathed.

He shrugged. "That isn't enough."

"Then let me show you! Let me spend the rest of my life showing you if I must, but I can't live without you, Lucius. I hate that I've hurt you, again and again, but please, give me just one more chance to show you that I am yours. Only yours. You're everything that I've always needed but was too... too stupid, to blind to even realize that I wanted and I took you for granted and I realized too late that I couldn't bear to not have you and... and at just that moment, Lysandra exploited that vulnerability and made me feel that I might lose you and I didn't know what to do, or to think, how to act... and I made the greatest mistake I could! I pushed you away when all I wanted to do was hold you and be near you."

She did not realized that tears were pouring down her face as she spoke; she only noticed, with a tiny ray of hope, that Lucius did not draw away as she inched nearer; that features were not twisted into hatred, but rather seemed to be softening.

"Today, when Rodtimer came, when he told me he still loved me, I knew, I was more certain than I'd ever been of anything, that there's nothing in the world, nothing I want in life if you are not in it. Please," she whispered, choking on an overwhelming tide of emotion as she reached for his hand and he did not pull it back. "Please, Lucius. I'll never lie, or hide from you again. I know I've done nothing to earn your trust, in fact I've done almost everything possible to betray it. I don't deserve another chance. But I am yours, always. A love such as ours is too great to forsake."

She knew it would take time, but she also knew that she could heal the wounds she had inflicted if only he would let her. And, as his lips finally touched hers with an aching tenderness, she knew that their days of suffering had ended; that he _would_ let her.

That their lives had only just begun.

* * *

.

* * *

(A/N: The end! Just an epilogue left, I think. I'll confess: in the first version of this chapter, Lucius killed Lysandra... I wanted her to die, too. But I figured the Wizarding world wasn't SO lawless as to let that go unnoticed.)


	42. Chapter 42

Epilogue

Narcissa did not want to look at the Daily Prophet. It lay on the dining room table, mocking her silently. She didn't think she could bear reading one more horror story. Every morning, the owl brought news printed in joyous blocks, announcing victories for the side of the 'good' and the 'righteous'.

Bella and Rodolphus were in Azkaban. There would be no appeal. They had only just avoided the Kiss, and Narcissa suspected that had more to do with the draining of the Lestrange family fortune into the pockets of greedy jurors than any sort of goodwill. There was no foreseeable escape, and they were being kept in the highest security cells. Narcissa could not go visit; not without casting suspicion upon her husband, and any current shadow could easily result in an identical fate for Lucius.

Rabastan was with them. Snatched out of her life permanently. A very public divorce had followed his sentencing- Lysandra had cut her losses and escaped to America in the aftermath of his trial.

Severus... a hero? A traitor? Narcissa wished she knew. He was a brilliant young man... had he betrayed the Dark Lord, and all of his friends? It would be unwise to attempt to contact him and find out.

In a bloody and spectacular battle with Aurors, Evan Rosier was brutally killed. Upon hearing the news, sweet, gentle Caroline's heart finally failed, and she died only hours later.

Rodtimer, in a flagrant act of cowardice, had disappeared the night the Dark Lord fell. He had been under suspicion for weeks. Unable to handle the abandonment, and subsequent pressure by Bartemius Crouch Senior, his wife committed suicide.

All of this, in the paper. Narcissa didn't want to look today.

Lucius swept silently into the room. Without a word or beat of hesitation, he snatched up the _Prophet_ and began to read, eyes moving quickly to gather the most important news. He flipped through the pages briskly, and Narcissa stared at her plate.

"Don't read it," he said at last, tossing it aside and lifting his fork. Narcissa's stomach lurched.

"Who?" she breathed anxiously.

"No one new. There are riots outside the Ministry. I assure you, you won't want to worry about the details."

Narcissa swallowed. "They want Bella dead, don't they?"

He nodded curtly. "Don't read it," he repeated.

She obeyed, though she suspected later, when he was locked in his study poring over letters or meeting with mysterious visitors from the Ministry, she would be drawn to the article, tear through every word and be sick.

"Mama."

Narcissa turned to smile reassuringly at Draco, who she could have sworn was watching her with suspicion from his highchair. "Baby," she cooed, stroking his cheek tenderly. Content, he resumed nibbling on the small pieces of apple before him. Here was her hope and her heart, often the the sole reason she got out of bed each morning.

"What are your plans for today?" she asked Lucius quietly, not expecting a real answer.

Lucius, knowing this, sighed and set his fork down. "Nothing to concern you."

It was only a tiny sting now. His vague answers worried her, but he had assured her, somewhat distantly, that her her ignorance was for her own protection, in case 'something were to go wrong'. She reached out to touch his hand, and he squeezed it gently before drawing away.

Just a little cold. Just a little removed. _You deserve this,_ she reminded herself forcefully. In fact, she deserved far worse. Since the night he had tortured Lysandra, there had been no more talk of ending their marriage, but Narcissa feared that it was constantly there, lurking beneath the veneer of his calm politeness. The kiss that had followed her passionate claim that their love was meant to last seemed to have been a fluke; months had passed, and he had not kissed her once since. That might have had something to do with the fact that, upon waking the next morning, every drop of alcohol had been removed from the Malfoy Manor- he cleared out the prestigious wine cellar and the bottles of expensive liquor, and had not consumed a drop since. She wondered, if he were to get drunk again, if he would gift her with another revelation... but she doubted it. Even if he ever decided to drink again, she felt there was no revelation to be had. He was angry. He was hurt. She had damaged their marriage- she could only pray that she had not done so irreparably.

Occasionally she tried to reach out to him, but she was consistently, though calmly, rebuffed. If she threw her arms around him, he would not shove her away; he would merely allow her a moment of unreciprocated contact before carefully drawing back.

_It won't always be like this,_ she told herself yet again. He just needed time. Needed to see that she was never going to push him away again. Needed to forgive her.

A resounding knock at the front door broke the uncomfortable silence. Narcissa made to rose, grateful for the distraction. Lucius's hand flew out and curled around her wrist with such force that she gasped.

"What are you-"

"Just listen." His tone gave her chills. "Outside that door are six Aurors with a warrant for my arrest."

Narcissa felt her intestines turn to stone. The moment she had been dreading- the nightmare that had been stealing any hope for respite for months- had arrived.

"What if you-"

"Stop. I will not resist, although they expect me to. The private meetings that I've been attending over the past few weeks have been strategic sessions in preparation for this event."

"You knew-"

"Let me finish," he cut her off icily. "I have seen to it that the right people will be paid. The Kiss will not be brought up as a possibility at trial, and if my plans are followed carefully, I do not expect a life sentence. In fact, I believe I could, optimistically, be facing fifteen years."

_Fifteen years. _Draco would be a young man before getting to know his father, and she practically an old woman before he wrapped his arms around her once more. And what would he be after a decade and a half in Azkaban? Surely only a shell of the man that he was now. The knocker sounded again, and Lucius rose, not relinquishing his crushing grasp on her arm.

"Now, listen carefully Narcissa. I need you to do precisely as I say. You and Draco will remain here. You both will be safe, as long as you do not publicly support my actions, and he will inherit his birthright. You will not flee the country- that would be tantamount to a confession. I am not prepared to dismiss all that the Malfoy family has accomplished over centuries of dedication. You will not be forced to speak at my trial; however, if you think yourself capable, you are to denounce me and my actions. If you cannot, leak stories to the press of your dismay over my actions. Do not try to contact me in any way before the trial. Do not visit afterwards. Do I make myself clear?"

She stared at him dumbly. He couldn't possibly expect her-

"_Promise me,_" he hissed, shaking her slightly.

"I promise," she blurted through numb lips, as the pounding at the door resounded for a third time. Content, Lucius gave a stiff nod and released her.

"I don't trust you," he murmured softly. It was not an accusation or a challenge; he was stating a bleak and unavoidable fact. He rose slowly, his hand extending once more, this time in tenderness, to stroke their son's flaxen hair. "But I hope for his sake you'll keep you word on this. Take Draco upstairs. Goodbye, Narcissa."

He did not turn back to look at her or their happily babbling boy, but Narcissa saw that his fingers trembled ever so slightly as he removed his wand from his pocket and set it on the table. She felt paralyzed as he walked silently out of the room. Her heart throbbed deafening, pounding in her skull as she heard her husband open the heavy, ancient doors.

"Lucius Malfoy," an unfamiliar voice barked, "you are hereby under arrest for-"

"I'm unarmed, there will be no need for that," Lucius informed a captor, his tone terse silk. She suspected they were restraining him excessively, and she tried not to hear the gruff voice enumerating her husbands crimes; terrible crimes, crimes no amount of gold could acquit him of... surely she had heard wrong, he couldn't have murdered _that _many Muggles...

"Find his wand," another voice ordered.

"There will be no need to tear the house apart, it's on the dining room table."

Heavy footsteps approaching the room finally unfroze Narcissa. She hurried to snatch Draco into a tight embrace, and skirted from a different exit just as the Auror walked in. Heart heart still pounding uncomfortably, she hovered in the corridor of her own home like an intruder, anxious for the men to leave the Manor. A part of her wished Lucius had decided to fight- perhaps her confidence in his skill was too great, but she felt that he could have succeeded and they could have fled the country. But then, he was right; they had to think of Draco's future, and of the Houses of Black and Malfoy. There was too much at stake, they had to move carefully.

_But Lucius in Azkaban for fifteen year or longer..._

No. It simply would not happen. She wouldn't let it. The slamming of the front door signaled the departure of the Aurors and Lucius, and the vast silence left in their wake drove her into sudden action. She would not live with that silence.

Narcissa marched determinedly to Lucius's study. This scene of such drama in her marriage still made her uneasy, but she set to work immediately, placing Draco on the plush divan, and pulling documents from the many drawers. Most were useless bits of Ministerial drudgery, and she left these in a neat pile... evidence for something, her mind told her, though she had not yet formed a plan. She needed to find the names of the men Lucius had been working with; needed to know who her allies were.

Hours of poring over documents proved to be relatively fruitless. He meticulously kept track of everything, it seemed, that related to his daily life, but nothing touching on his nocturnal activities... wise, of course. It would be foolish to keep a record of his less savory dealings easily accessible. But where was he keeping them?

An impatient rapping on the door pulled her from her reverie. Answering the door at the moment seemed foolish, but the knocking continued. She had put Draco down for a nap some time ago, so he was out of harms way, but she still moved with caution. Wand drawn, she crept into the main foyer, and opened the ancient doors a crack.

"Oh Cissy, thank Merlin, I thought you'd fled the country. Britt just told me and I came right over. You must be devastated." Without invitation, Ari Parkinson pushed the door wider and gave Narcissa a quick hug.

"Is Britt-"

"Oh, he's fine. He was never in the Inner Circle, and he's been very good at covering his tracks. He's not a fighter, not like your Lucius. I love him, Merlin knows why, but he's dull as could be almost all the time. He was mostly involved in information... a glorified bookkeeper. They wouldn't even trust him as a spy. But he's safe," she added, and the obvious relief that she tried to mask for Narcissa's sake caught in her throat for a moment. "Safe and back to being boring as a Bugbear." She rested a reassuring hand on Narcissa's shoulder. "Tell me, how are you coping?"

"I'm not. I'm not coping because he's not going to Azkaban. He told me... he told me to lie, for Draco's sake. Claim ignorance. But Ari... I can't."

Anyone else would have gently told her the Lucius was right; that he had forged the best path for her and her son prior to his arrest. Ari gave Narcissa a a long, hard stare. "Well then, Cissy, let's get to work."

* * *

Narcissa took a deep, fortifying breath. Today was The Day. Lucius had been held without bail for six months and three days. Narcissa had kept busy during this time, yet every hour had dragged on miserably. Beneath it all was the fear that her actions would be futile, and the lingering doubt that her plan might now work, and she should obey her husband's clear request. These doubts would swirl in her mind each night when she laid down to bed, and she would grapple for hours in the dark with her own anguished thoughts, and the constant ache of desperately missing him that she was scarcely able to keep at bay during daylight hours. Each dawn she rose with her purpose reaffirmed. She would do whatever it took to return Lucius to her side.

In the weeks after his arrest, she had feared the worst. Under Bartemius Crouch's reign, it looked unlikely that Lucius would ever be granted a trial. The man had sent his own son to Azkaban along with her sister, brother-in-law, and poor Rabastan. Still, she had worked tirelessly to build her case, one shard of plausible evidence at a time. And then, a breakthrough. Not long after the death of Crouch's son, public opinion began to turn. A carefully worded article in the Daily Prophet (paid for covertly by Narcissa) had opened the public's eyes to the methods and practices of Mr. Crouch. Peace was settling across the nation, but an exposé of the abominable conditions of Azkaban (also funded by Malfoy gold) drove the softhearted witches and wizards of the United Kingdom to demand that trials resume in order to alleviate overcrowding. Crouch had outright refused. He maintained his staunch position for a week, and then an unimaginable miracle occurred. Crouch was fired, shunted off to the Department of International Cooperation. While it had seemed that the man would be Minister and Lucius would be lost forever, Cornelius Fudge took over instead. An unsavory new woman called Dolores Umbridge sat at his side on the Wizengamot. Unpleasant and simpering as she seemed, she had been a Slytherin and her influence was easily bought, and it seemed that she was making sure that all the right people were set free. Including, Narcissa hoped, Lucius.

_All the cards are in place. _All that was left was for Narcissa to give the performance of a lifetime.

She glanced at Ari, who gave a vigorous nod of support. "Don't you worry about him," she whispered, meaning Draco, who was looking around with bright, curious eyes from the vantage point of Ari's arms. He had grown so much since Lucius had last laid eyes on the boy, and she feared that, despite her best efforts to show him photographs and talk about Lucius, that the boy would not remember his father at all.

They lingered immediately outside of Courtroom Ten. The Wizengamot was assembled. Lucius was inside. Gaining permission to speak first had been almost disgustingly easy- though it was unorthodox, she had met Fudge directly, and he'd been quickly won over by a combination of gold, flirtation, and the promise of courtroom drama.

Right on cue, the doors opened. "Mrs. Malfoy? The court is ready for your testimony."

Narcissa nodded once, coolly, and strode confidently into the foreboding chamber. The faces of the Wizengamot did not frighten her- she was a Malfoy, after all.

"Honorable Witches and Wizards of the Wizengamot," she began in a strong, clear voice. She liked the way her voice rang assuredly in the circular room. "I come before you today with previously unexpressed evidence. When you hear the nature of my remarks, you will understand precisely why this issue has not been previously addressed. But I hope, I _know_, that when you hear what I have to say, there will be no way you can convict this man without the grave error of your decision weighing on your conscience for the rest of your life." The delivery of her speech would be no problem, she thought almost smugly- until her eyes fell on Lucius.

It was a mistake. How had she forgotten to mentally prepare herself for the condition he would be in after nine months of imprisonment? In her mind he was still the man who had strode lazily to face his captors all those months ago... now, he was a shadow. His robes were rags, his face gaunt, his gleaming hair dirty and bedraggled. Bruise-like shadows darkened the hollows beneath his eyes. His eyes... Narcissa felt her heart unfreeze fractionally. Those were still his sharp, undefeated, blazing grey eyes. He sat straight up in his chains. And he stared at her with such intensity that she swore she could almost hear his words.

_If you're going to defy me, then do it right. For Merlin's sake, this had better be good. _And then, a barely perceptible movement of his lips, only visible since she was staring so intently at him, words only for her:

_I love you. _

"There's been a terrible mistake." The tears that filled her eyes and the tightness in her throat were not falsified, though they were not from grief. "My husband was under the Imperius Curse. He was not acting on his own free will. He is innocent of any wrongdoing, although even he may not realize it. You cannot send this man- this father, my loving husband, adored brother and the only son of an outstanding line of wizards who have contributed much to society as we know it today- to prison for crimes he unwilling committed. He had no desire to serve He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I can prove it."


End file.
